Shattered Children
by Dracoqueen22
Summary: Epilogue up! Sequel. TsengSeph. In this last story of the Shattered Arc based in part on Advent Children, Sephiroth fights to salvage his future when faced with spectres from the past. See inside for a longer description, warnings, and pairings.
1. Notes and Warnings

Greetings to all my readers, new and old!

This is the last piece in the Shattered Arc. I can honestly say that I never thought I would end up writing so much but the storyline seemed to grab a hold of me and refuse to let go. There's something about these characters I just can't ignore.

With that in mind, I have brought you Shattered Children, a story focusing on Sephiroth's attempts to have his own life outside of ShinRa, including beginning a tentative relationship with Tseng. Not only is he dealing with the fall out from his own actions, but he is struggling to find his place in the world when all he knows is death and destruction. Will he manage to overcome Hojo's brainwashing and find peace?

Pairings: Tseng/Sephiroth, Reeve/Reno, Cid/Vincent, Rude/Shera, Nanaki/Yuffie, Zack/Elena, Barret/Elmyra, Cloud/Aeris, and a few surprises that I won't ruin!

I am taking the opportunity to warn you that this fic is based in part on the film Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children. Certain events and scenes will be taken directly from the plot with obvious changes since Cloud is deceased in this storyline and the focus is instead on Sephiroth. If you feel you will be spoiled and don't want to read it, I recommend that you cease now. I will not warn for spoilers in the following chapters.

Also, this fic will contain any of the following:

_Homosexual and Heterosexual pairings  
_

_Graphic violence_

_Mentions of past torture and/or rape_

_Severe angst_

_Character death_

_Foul Language_

I'm not going to continue warning against these thing to save me from unnecessary typing.

Also, here is my disclaimer:

I do not own the concepts of Final Fantasy VII, its characters or any derivative games and other merchandise. I am merely borrowing for my own use. However, the characters Archer Kyle and numerous other OC's belong to me and me alone. Please ask before use.

Just wanted to let you know, this fic will be approximately 32 "parts" long. That is twenty chapters, ten interludes, one Prologue and one Epilogue for the entire series. Each Interlude comprises a piece of the story that took place in the gap between Shattered Dreams and Shattered Children.

With that long introduction done, I now present the prologue and chapter one of Shattered Children.

Enjoy!

And don't forget to review!

Dracoqueen22


	2. Prologue

**A/N: If you haven't already, be sure to read the introduction so that you have all the warnings and disclaimers! Thanks!**

**Shattered Children**

**Prologue**

"Jenova?" Tseng repeated in a quizzical tone. He shifted where he stood in front of Reeve's desk, exchanging a glance with Elena. "What do you mean?"

The President of the World Regenesis Organization, formerly known as ShinRa, sighed as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing a finger over his forehead. "I had Sion and Archer install monitoring devices at the Northern Crater a few weeks after the war. Since then, four of them have been destroyed and not by natural means. The one remaining is picking up some strange activity in the Lifestream."

"Great," Elena muttered with an exasperated huff. "This is the last thing we need right now. What do you think it is?"

"Aside from another god hell bent on world destruction?" Reeve remarked humorlessly, turning towards his computer and tapping a few keys to bring up the report the science department had e-mailed to him. "Honestly, we don't know. That's why I want both of you to take Sion and check it out."

Tseng's frown deepened as he glanced at the folder in his hands, flipping it open to sift through the papers. Most were scientific findings that he didn't understand but at least there was a map, pinpointing where the disturbance was most active. The Northern Crater... A thought occurred to him and he lifted his eyes back to Reeve.

"Have you told Sephiroth?" he asked, knowing that if there was something to do with Jenova, then either the former General already knew, or deserved to sometime in the future.

The president shifted in his seat, looking a mite uncomfortable. "No," he admitted, and when he saw the subtle darkening of his second-in-command's features he held up a hand. "But only because there isn't anything to tell yet." He pointed towards the file in Tseng's hand. "Confirmation first."

"Probably can't find him anyways," Elena mumbled, shaking her head. It was an unfortunate fact that since the end of the war, Sephiroth sightings were less and less as he divided his time between Zack, Denzel, Tseng, and whatever the hell else he did when no one knew where he was.

Tseng sighed. "Last I checked, he was near Midgar," he responded, seemingly without thinking. He dropped a hand, brushing down a non-existent wrinkle in his pressed black slacks.

He and Elena had both returned to the traditional Turk outfit, finding it easier to be distinguished as Reeve's confidante's than when they were all dressed separately.

"You've spoken to him?" Reeve asked with a lifted brow, somewhat surprised.

As far as he knew, Sephiroth rarely, if ever, answered his phone. And that was usually only if Denzel was calling. He didn't deny that child anything that was within his power to provide. Especially since Denzel was one of many on the planet who suffered from Geostigma.

It was the name given to the affliction invading most of the residents of Gaia. Vaguely resembling a very dark bruise, it was in fact more of a destruction of the flesh from within. At times it would seep and pulse a brackish fluid, and more often than not, it resulted in death. WRO scientists were frantically trying to discover both the cause and the cure but to no avail.

It was highly suspected, mostly by Vincent and Reeve, that the cause had something to do with Jenova and her effects on the Lifestream. They believed that it was the result of one's body working excessively to fight off the infection brought on by Jenova's lingering presence. Why it was mostly children to be affected, however, neither man had been able to discern.

Denzel wasn't the only of them to be afflicted. The heroes had not been spared in the slightest. Vincent, Nanaki, Reno, and Zack all suffered from bruises of various sizes, leaving their significant others to worry incessantly.

This time, it was the Turk Commander's turn to shift uncomfortably, a small semblance of guilt seeping into his expression. "No," he admitted, closing the folder of information with a definite snap. "But the locater in his cell is easy to trace."

Elena blinked in surprise, her mouth dropping. "You're tracking him?" she queried with a hint of accusation.

The Wutaiian shook his head. "Not intentionally," he explained. "But you know that we put locaters in the cell phones we gave he and Zack when we first met them."

He knew far better than to intentionally follow Sephiroth. That would be a breach of trust that was already thin, not for lack of trying. Though he wasn't adverse to taking advantage of something that had existed prior. It eased his fears, to some degree, to know if Sephiroth was at least moving.

His subordinate gaped at him a minute more before shaking her head. "Better not let Zack find out. Otherwise he'll hound you every day to check on him."

"In any case," Reeve smoothly inserted, hoping to return their attention to the matter at hand. Both Turks flicked their eyes his direction and he continued, "This matter has utmost priority."

Tseng frowned slightly, fingers tapping against the folder in his grasp. He was supposed to leave that afternoon for Wutai. He had promised Yuffie that he would help her instill some of the regulations for the new changes. But Reeve was absolutely right. This wasn't really something that could wait. Otherwise they would risk a Jenova resurrection that their planet simply could not survive through again.

The Wutaiian rubbed a finger over his forehead, dreading the conversation with his cousin. She would most likely pout and whine, reminding him that this was the _third_time he'd had to cancel on her for WRO related issues. Or Sephiroth issues. He had a lot of both of them.

"Sure, Reeve," Elena said, dragging Tseng away from his thoughts. "We'll take care of it right away."

The President nodded, looking visibly relieved. His shoulders dropped the stark line of tension. "I only hope that I am being overly cautious and that there is nothing to be found."

The door to his office chose that moment to open without any sort of announcement, admitting an uninvited to their discussion. All eyes turned towards the door, half-surprised to find Zack striding in quite determined.

"Has_anyone_ seen Sephiroth?" he demanded, seemingly not caring that he was interrupting their meeting. There was evidence of strain on his usual carefree expression, lines of stress making him appear far older than his young years.

In the months following the Chaos War, Zack had finally slipped into his new life, casting aside all that he retained from ShinRa. Dressed in simple black fatigues tucked into dark boots and a navy t-shirt, he certainly didn't look as if he were employed as a monster hunter. Only the large blade strapped to his back, a recent gift from Elena named the First Ken, gave any clue to his occupation. It was an interesting weapon, truly formed of multiple different blades.

"Because it's been like a month for me," the former SOLDIER finished as he came to a halt in front of Reeve's desk, crossing his arms and looking down at the President.

Reeve returned the gaze evenly, a frown marring his features. "He was last seen in Midgar but that's all I know."

Zack let out a frustrated sigh and raked a hand through his hair. "Something's up with him," he muttered lowly, shooting a pointed glance at Tseng before he continued. "This guilt fest he's on has gone too far. But he won't listen to me when I try to tell him that." He mumbled something else, but it was too low for the others to catch.

Brown eyes darkened with concern. "Zack," Elena murmured, moving to lay a hand on her lover's arm. She knew how much Sephiroth pulling away from everyone was hurting him. It was a void that she couldn't fill. Zack needed to be needed, in simplest terms, and as much as she cared for him, Elena didn't _need_ Zack. Not like Sephiroth did.

The former SOLDIER curled his lips, giving her his best reassuring smile before returning his attention to Reeve, rubbing a hand over his head again, a clear sign of stress, and disheveling his mane even further. "Look. You have anything for me to do? I'm goin' out of mind."

Reeve glanced at his desk, considering making Zack sign all of his paperwork if he was that bored. It wouldn't be that hard to forge his signature. The President rubbed a forefinger over his temple, alarmed at himself for even thinking the thought, before he reached for a stack of documents that he knew listed strange monster sightings. They were mostly the results of over-active imaginations and paranoia but they still needed to be attended.

"The best I have--"

"Actually," Tseng broke in smoothly before Reeve could even begin. "I would suggest that you tell him about the crater."

Crystalline eyes widened slightly, flickering between the two men. "What about the crater?" Zack asked as the President lifted a brow in his second's direction.

The Wutaiian gestured vaguely. "I was supposed to head to Wutai this afternoon. It would save me Yuffie's whining if Zack could take my place on this mission." And with Tseng being the only family the ninja had left since Godo's death, he hated disappointing her. Not to mention he would be lying if he said he didn't cherish every moment spent in the land of his birth.

"Fine," Reeve agreed, sitting back in his chair. "It might be better if Zack went anyways. Just in case."

The former SOLDIER frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, not liking the tone their conversation had just taken.

Sighing, Reeve waved in the direction of the files Tseng still carried, a silent order for the man to hand them over. "There is a possibility that Jenova might still exist."

Zack's eyes widened impossibly large as he sucked in a horrified breath. "But..." he trailed off, well aware of the implications of that one sentence. The fact that Sephiroth was acting strange lately only increased his concern, especially since there were those odd instances during the Chaos War...

"I didn't want to believe it either," Tseng inserted with a shake of his head. "We've no choice but to investigate immediately." Suddenly, he wondered if it wasn't best if he went after all.

Reeve opened his mouth to respond but a sound cut him off. It was the demanding cry of an infant, and it was coming from the small receiver sitting on his desk. Reddening slightly, amber eyes darted towards the device before Reeve reached out and quickly switched it off, rising to his feet.

"Excuse me," the President sighed. "I'll return in a moment." As his subordinates exchanged looks behind him, he slid out from his desk and turned towards one of the two doors situated on the backside of the wall, disappearing through the wooden portal.

The moment the door slid shut behind him, Elena smirked. "He is so whipped," she commented teasingly. "All Revan has to do is make the slightest peep. She's got her daddies wrapped already."

"Which means she inherited more from Reno than we expected," Tseng responded with a groan. He turned on his heels and thrust the papers in his hold towards Zack. "I leave this in your hands."

The spiky-haired man took them with much reluctance, a troubled expression darkening normally cheerful features. "I'll find out what's going on," he promised.

"See that you do," Tseng threw out as he headed towards the door, hands lifting to tie his long hair out of his face. He would be piloting a helicopter and it would be troublesome otherwise. "Tell Reeve I'll contact him later."

"Sure, boss," Elena called after him, Tseng responding with something noncommittal before he left the room, closing the door quietly after them. Her smile dropped once he was gone, concern replacing her fake teasing.

If it wasn't bad enough that she had to worry about Tseng, but the melancholy of her lover was also of some concern. She had her hands full, it seemed.

The sounds of papers flapping drew her attention and she looked to Zack, finding that he was biting his lip as he scanned the documents. "I don't understand," he muttered, face paling with each page. "Hasn't he suffered enough?"

"Zack..."

Reeve chose that moment re-emerge, sliding the door open with his hip as he carefully cradled his daughter in his arms. From one hand dangled a bottle and he was murmuring softly to Revan, the infant gurgling happily.

"I apologize," the President announced, a bit shame-faced as he moved back into his seat, lowering himself carefully so as not to disturb his daughter. Aquamarine eyes, the same shade as Reno's, stared back up at him lovingly.

Elena dropped whatever it was she was about to say to Zack, smiling softly in Reeve's direction. "Its amazing how quickly I got used to the sight of that," she commented wistfully as the President cradled his daughter in his arms, trying to coax her to drink from the bottle. "You're so cute."

He rolled his eyes. "Reno was up all night with her," Reeve answered dryly, and a bit distractedly. "He deserves some sleep." He conveniently left out the rest. The both of them were being run ragged in trying to care for their daughter. But he wouldn't give it up for the world.

Smiling gently at Revan, he lifted his gaze only to find that Tseng had already left. He didn't blame the man. Yuffie needed all the support she could muster at the moment.

"Sion is already waiting at the helicopter," Reeve said to the other two remaining, returning his attention to Revan as he finally succeeded in persuading her to drink. She suckled contentedly, eyelids shuttering closed.

Zack nodded in understanding, dropping the documents down on Reeve's desk. They weren't necessary to take with him. "It shouldn't take long. Thanks, Reeve."

The President shook his head. "You won't be thanking me if this turns out to valid."

"That remains to be seen," Elena reminded him before tapping Zack on the shoulder. "Come on soldier boy, let's go."

With a parting wave from the spiky-haired man, the two left his office, closing the door quietly behind them. Reeve breathed a sigh and looked down at his daughter, wishing wholeheartedly that it was nothing more than a couple of malfunctioning devices. He was fully sick of fighting for his life and worrying about those he cared for.

After the Chaos War, they had all hoped it would be over. They wanted it to be able to get on with their lives in peace. Cid and Vincent were finally reunited, spending their time traveling the world in his newly built and aptly named Valenwind. Cid was making a hefty sum out of his transport business and was even teaching some classes in Engineering, though he claimed the uppity brats annoyed him. Everyone knew he was just making airs.

Vincent, if not found aboard his lover's airship, occasionally helped Reeve with taking out some of the more dangerous monsters that were still cropping up after Hojo's experiments. Not to mention his attempts to further his relationship with Sephiroth. And as far as Reeve knew, the two men weren't having any trouble.

In his arms, Revan made a discontented gurgle, momentarily distracting him. Reeve rose to his feet, shifting her weight in his arms. He moved towards the large window, which ran floor to ceiling, and stared out at the light of the afternoon sun, shining warmly through the glass. His daughter was comforted by the warmth and settled down again, suckling contentedly, allowing him to return to his ruminations.

After Cloud's death, Aeris spent a lot of time in sorrow, missing her husband. But once her daughter - Midori - was born, she found herself too occupied to grieve. She now lived in Rocket Town along with a good many of the former heroes, also hoping to find her peace. Aeris was also caring for Denzel in Sephiroth's absence, and had help time to time from her mother, who resided next door with Barret and Marlene. With her inability to work, Reeve had been helping her with bills until she was able to get back on her feet. He figured it was the WRO's duty, considering it was ShinRa's money and they were to blame for pretty much everything that was wrong with her life.

Yuffie was currently in Wutai, having taken over rule since her father's death, which had hit the sprightly ninja pretty hard. She had recently come to terms with her own guilt in the matter, but it was still a sore spot for her. Luckily, she still had Nanaki to fall back on, the demi-human having given up residing with his clan to stay with the humans... and most importantly, her. Reeve wouldn't be surprised to see another wedding on the horizon.

As for Nanaki himself, he divided his time between helping Yuffie in Wutai and overseeing the reconstruction in Cosmo Canyon. They were building a new center of learning called the Bugenhagen Institute and it was dedicated to the study of planet and life, as well as new technologies for the betterment of mankind. The WRO was also supporting this organization.

Rude and Shera were also living in Rocket Town where the former Turk had actually been appointed mayor in Cid's place. Like Aeris, they were also celebrating the birth of their son, ironically on the same day as the flower girl's daughter. Both former ShinRa employees were still happily married and that didn't seem to be changing anytime soon. Which Reeve was glad to hear. It was nice to see some stability.

As for himself, he and Reno and the rest of what was left of ShinRa relocated to the upper levels of Junon where he formed the World Regenesis Organization, better known as WRO. Three months after the Chaos War, they managed to successfully artificially inseminate Reis and nine months after that, Revan was born to them. It was one of the happiest moments in their life.

Reis hadn't returned to Costa del Sol after giving birth, instead opting to remain in Junon and establish her own practice. Whenever she wasn't helping Reeve and Reno take care of Revan, she was doing what she did best, medicine.

Archer had also followed them to Junon, dividing himself among his shares of Cid's transport business and helping Reeve run the WRO. The president had been hoping that the engineer and his sister would start to hit it off but alas, there seemed to be only friendship between them. Though he did suspect that Archer had met someone. The man had been exceptionally joyous lately, opposite of the almost depressed air that had been hanging over him after the war.

Zack and Sephiroth moved to Junon as well, sharing an apartment in close vicinity to the WRO headquarters though Zack spent a fair share of his time at Elena's and Sephiroth, well, sightings of him became less and less as time went on. Tseng and Archer also had apartments nearby. All worked with Reeve doing various works within the organization, though Sephiroth was more of a free agent than the rest. And after Zack gifted his former general with a cycle, it was that much easier for Sephiroth to disappear.

Reeve wasn't sure what was going on with Sephiroth. In fact, no one knew. Not even Tseng, despite the fact that the two of them were together and had been since the Chaos War had been won. The former General had been gradually pulling away from everyone, even Zack, dividing his time between Denzel, Tseng, Zack, and whatever he did when no one could find him. It wasn't that Reeve was worried for the sake of the world's safety, but for Sephiroth himself. The man was a part of their family now.

The door behind his desk opened, disturbing Reeve from his recollections. He looked over his shoulder to see his husband emerging, yawning visibly as he cracked his neck. The moment he spotted Reeve, the Turk began to saunter his direction, coming up behind the President and wrapping his arms around him. Reno set his chin on Reeve's shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the side of his husband's neck.

"Mornin'," the Turk drawled, nuzzling against the tanned flesh as the familiar scent of Reve floated to his senses.

The President hummed noncommittally. "It's afternoon."

"Same difference," Reno responded with a faint shrug as he looked at their daughter over his husband's shoulder. "I don't think I'll ever get over seeing you with a kid. It fits, yo."

Reeve chuckled softly. "Elena said something to the same effect. Do I look that domestic?"

"Mmm, maybe." Reno's tongue flicked against his neck before he moved to nibble lightly on the bottom of Reeve's ear, pressing the length of his body against his husband's back.

The older man sighed, tilting his head to give Reno easier access to the sensitive skin. Intimacies were getting scarcer lately, despite all the help that Reis was giving. He and Reno were Revan's parents, not his sister and he didn't want to impinge on her kindness. They had decided to try and do all the raising themselves.

Reeve turned his head and their lips brushed. Smiling into the intentional encounter, Reno pressed forward, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue across his husband's lips. His mischievous hands crept downwards, his palm ghosting over Reeve's groin. Warmth followed in the wake of his touch as Reeve eagerly dueled tongues with his husband.

Of course, as fate would have it, that moment Revan chose to spit out the bottle and make a loud gurgle, her hunger completely sated. She fidgeted in her father's arms, immediately drawing his attention. Reeve broke off the kiss with much reluctance, turning his gaze down to his daughter.

"I swear. It's like she knows," he admitted with some exasperation, lifting the bottle away from Revan. Big blue eyes blinked up at him and Reeve couldn't really find himself getting annoyed.

Reno sighed, knocking his forehead against Reeve's shoulder. "You're the one who wanted kids," he teased, moving his hands back to the safer area of his husband's waist. A yawn escaped him before he could stop it, along with the unwanted random thought that he was getting _old._ Kami, help him.

The President chuckled and handed the half-full bottle over his shoulder, letting Reno take it from him. The Turk promptly set it on the desk behind him, to be taken care of at a later time. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the moment. He set his chin back on Reeve's shoulder, looking past the older man and out the window as his husband rocked their daughter.

"You know," Reeve began conversationally. "I talked to my parents this afternoon." Behind him, Reno stiffened but he pressed on nonetheless. "They want to see Revan."

The Turk stood up straight, twisting his jaw. "No." The denial left little room for argument but Reeve wasn't finished.

He turned to face his husband. "She's their granddaughter. It's only right."

Aquamarine eyes narrowed. "I'm not taking our daughter there. You know they don't want to see me and frankly, I don't want to see them, yo." He frowned, face darkening with emotion as he remembered their last encounter. "I don't want them near her until they can accept me as well."

It wasn't that Reeve didn't understand, or that he wanted to subject Reno to their treatment. Honestly, his parents had never been his favorite people either. But Reis had begged him to try and make amends and for his sister, there was little he wouldn't do. And she had a point. Revan might be the very thing to bind them all together as a family.

The President sighed, stepping towards his taller husband. "I haven't forgiven them either," he said gently as Reno reached for their daughter, taking the cooing infant into his arms and rocking her. "But maybe, all it takes is for one of us to bend."

Reno was silent a moment, watching as Revan clasped her small hand around his finger. "We're the only ones who bend, Reeve," he murmured softly, his eyes flickering to his husband. "And eventually, one of us will break." In his arms, Revan gurgled.

"Maybe you're right," the President admitted, pulling Reno towards him. His hand cupped the back of his husband's neck, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss. "But don't make up your mind just yet. Please?"

The Turk sighed. "Whatever. Let's just not talk about it right now." He offered Revan a small smile, joggling her lightly in his arms. "Time for someone to get back to bed."

She blew bubbles out her lips, murmuring incoherent burbles. Even Reno had to admit that his little girl was the cutest baby he had ever seen. And he never thought he would find himself saying something like that.

"It's the middle of the afternoon," Reeve reminded him with some amusement, catching his husband in the middle of stifling a very large yawn. "Or maybe it's just that you want to go to sleep, hmm? Are you getting old already?"

Reno rolled his eyes. "Says the man recently griping over his thirty-sixth birthday." But he wasn't really annoyed, and showed that by kissing Reeve again, wholeheartedly hoping that the squirming infant between them would show signs of returning to sleep.

And then the phone rang, reminding both men just where they were .

Reluctantly breaking off their brief show of affection, Reno exhaled softly. "Better answer that, yo. It's probably important."

"And this isn't?" Reeve countered with a raised brow. But he was already stepping towards his desk, anything to end the piercing shrill that had invaded his office. By the gods, he hated telephones. They were the bane of his existence.

He quickly snatched up his phone, holding the receiver to his ear. "Tuesti, here," he barked crisply, half of him not really caring who was on the other line.

Until Archer's voice poured through the speaker. The President relaxed slightly as he listened to one of his closest friends speak, the engineer giving a rundown of the specs for the new power source that Shera had sent over. Sensing that it would be a long explanation, he blindly located his chair, half-noticing that Reno had shifted it towards him with a hip before plopping down into it.

Reeve shot his husband a grateful smile, then grabbed pen and paper and immediately began jotting down notes. "I see," he responded to Archer. "And how many did she say it would take to power it annually?"

A bit disappointed, Reno shifted Revan's weight in his arms. He moved towards Reeve, pressing a kiss to the man's forehead and got a small smile in return. "Me and chibi are headin' back to bed, yo," he murmured in explanation.

Reeve covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Sorry."

The Turk shrugged. He was used to it by now. And at least, Reeve wasn't as consumed by his work as he had been before. "Just don't work too hard," he cast out over his shoulder, already heading towards the door. But Reeve had returned his attention to the phone.

* * *

To say that everything started with ShinRa would be a slightly false claim. Certainly, the mega corporation has much blame on its head, but not everything entirely. Of course, Jenova's awakening would have never occurred if it hadn't been for ShinRa's meddling, but the company couldn't possibly have known of the sheer danger of the "calamity from the skies." Then again, who was to say what exactly a man like Euphraim Hojo understood.

Nevertheless, the story as the world knows it, began with ShinRa. It sucked the life out of the planet day by day using such machines known as mako reactors. Once a simple weapons development company, it gradually morphed into a world government and multi-conglomeration of soldiers, electric power, and scientific experiments of the worse kind... of the human kind. More than that, ShinRa controlled the entire planet by owning everything.

It was thanks to ShinRa that the world had power and materia. The public became incredibly dependent on the conglomeration and soon, the entire planet was under their control.

ShinRa's military was first-rate, already at the height of its power especially after the defeat of Wutai. The development of SOLDIER only further cemented that fact, and it was well-known that those of the rank FIRST class were the most powerful, and the most feared.

But ShinRa's scientists weren't satisfied with just that. They wanted something more, something stronger, something... perfect. The ultimate soldier. The greatest machine of destruction ever known to mankind. And they wanted it human, or relatively so, and easily under their control.

And so the experiments began.

With Dr. Gast's research on the Cetra, the scientists dug up an ancient being, originally hoping to use her knowledge to find the Promised Land. Instead, they revived mankind's worst nightmare. And they chose to breed it, by injecting Jenova's cells into other humans. They found that with her DNA, men could become stronger and faster, more intelligent. They would wield magic, and heal at an advanced rate. They could become like beasts, but with the emotions of men.

ShinRa's ultimate success was a man named Sephiroth, borne from humans but imbibed with Jenova cells and mako from the moment he was first conceived. Dr. Hojo considered Sephiroth his greatest success, despite the horrible truth that he was experimenting on his own son. And when Sephiroth finally entered the army, he far outstripped all expectations. He was The General, a god to his fellow soldiers. He was impossible to defeat.

Until the truth came out.

No one knew if it was by Hojo's plan or if the facts had merely slipped his mind. He had to have known what Sephiroth would find in Nibelheim when he gave the recommendation for the General and a small contingent to examine the malfunctioning reactor. Perhaps it was all a large experiment to see how Sephiroth would react when he discovered the truth of his origins.

Not even Hojo could have predicted the aftermath of Sephiroth's rage. The hurt and the questions, the confusion that swirled in Sephiroth's mind. It culminated. He blamed Nibelheim for his pain, but most of all, he blamed ShinRa. That night, a small town in the Nibel Mountains burnt to the ground, ruining the lives of countless people. That night, a young cadet was almost killed by the man he admired most, and two best friends fought themselves to a standstill in which one did not survive. That night… the fate of the planet was irrevocably changed.

The truth of Nibelheim was buried deep within ShinRa politics. The reactor was shut down, the town rebuilt and the world continued turning with few the wiser as to what had really happened. Experiments continued in the basement of the ShinRa mansion, but no one was there to hear any screams.

Years passed, five to be exact, and a terrorist group by the name of AVALANCHE began a civil war with ShinRa and Midgar. Bombing mako reactors was only a part of their plan to save the planet from the electric company. They enlisted the help of an ex-SOLDIER by the name of Cloud Strife, childhood friend of Tifa Lockhart, one of the main activists in AVALANCHE. Led also by Barret Wallace, AVALANCHE was determined to take down ShinRa and stop them from killing their beloved planet.

No one expected Sephiroth's resurrection.

Somehow, the former General had found his way back to the living world, to take his revenge on the company he blamed for his unnatural life. He rescued Jenova's remnants from the ShinRa laboratory at Midgar and assassinated the President, leaving his son and vice-president, Rufus, to inherit the throne. With world destruction at the forefront of his thoughts, Sephiroth left Midgar, his destination unknown.

AVALANCHE was forced to escape from Midgar after the Sephiroth incident, and in a small inn at the sleepy town of Kalm, Cloud Strife explained everything that he knew about the former General, including what happened in Nibelheim five years prior. With this information, the once-terrorist group turned its attention towards destroying Sephiroth.

Thus they began a pursuit around the world. Cloud and his rapidly expanding group of friends, bound together by their hatred for ShinRa, followed Sephiroth across continents and oceans. Chance events led them to the discovery of the Black Materia, the ultimate destruct magic, taking them to a place known as the Temple of the Ancients. There, Aeris Gainsborough proved to be of great help, and it was revealed that perhaps there was a deeper connection between Cloud and Sephiroth than was originally explained.

Seething beneath the surface of their group, more relationships were being bent and broken, built and renewed. Reeve Tuesti, former operator of Cait Sith, made his appearance. Nanaki and Yuffie formed an unlikely friendship. Cid and Vincent oscillated on the edge of their lust, neither willing to give in first.

With the Black Materia in Sephiroth's hands, Aeris attempted to take him on by herself, stating that only she could summon Holy which would counter the effects of Meteor. Cloud and the others tracked her down to Bone Village in the north, arriving just in time to witness Sephiroth slaying the flower girl as she prayed for the safety of the entire world.

Her death was the catalyst for everything that followed after.

Enraged, Cloud and company tracked Sephiroth to the Northern Crater at the very top of Mount Gaea. Rufus and scientists were there as well with Tifa revealed as a traitor, but instead of confronting Sephiroth as expected, Cloud lost control of himself and aided Sephiroth in summoning Meteor before disappearing into the Lifestream.

With the planet's weapons summoned, Holy lost, Cloud gone, and the companions in ShinRa's hands, it seemed all hope was lost. They somehow managed to escape and found Cloud suffering from mako poisoning in Mideel. It took an attack by Ultima weapon before he was able to regain himself, claiming it was thanks to Aeris.

The search for a way to activate Holy began.

In the process, Aeris was revived, claiming that a new sacrifice was to be made. The final battle was drawing nearer and nearer, but first, there was the matter of ShinRa. Thinking that they were doing good, President Rufus had ordered that the mako cannon be moved to Midgar with the intention of aiming it at the barrier protecting Sephiroth at the Northern Crater. Unfortunately, Hojo had other plans in mind and Midgar was a small price to pay for his desires.

Cloud and his companions were left with little choice but to stop Hojo but were too late to save most of Midgar from Diamond Weapon's attack. ShinRa was now finished, scattered to the four winds, and even one of the Turks had joined their side. Reno, revealed to be Reeve's lover of over five years, threw his lot in with them. There was nothing left but to defeat Sephiroth, now accessible thanks to ShinRa's meddling.

No one expected that the sacrifice would be claimed so soon. They defeated Sephiroth, but not without cost to themselves. Vincent Valentine fell in the final battle, along with the strange appearance of Diablos and Vincent's final form, Chaos, leaving his lover devastated. But at least the world was saved.

Or so they thought.

There was another danger brewing beneath the surface, another originally begun by Hojo but furthered by a demi-god's own madness. He wanted freedom, to escape from the chains of rule and responsibility. And Balaam didn't care who or what was destroyed in his pursuit. He wanted the mortals to pay for his pain. He wanted the immortals to suffer for the misery they had caused him.

Gongaga was the first to be attacked, but only because they had unwittingly been harboring a very much alive Vincent Valentine, afflicted with amnesia thanks to Balaam's influence. He fought off the demon horde, but not before his caretakers fell to their hands. Disgusted with his inability to save them, he began a search for his identity.

Meanwhile, problems were raging across the world. Tifa, having lived through Diamond Weapon's attack on Midgar, was causing problems for Reeve, the new President of ShinRa. Cid Highwind was rapidly degenerating in his misery, still constantly searching for a lover he refused to believe died. Aeris and Shera, both pregnant, feared for the health of their children thanks to the mako flooding through their husband's veins.

A war was beginning, with none of them the wiser.

Towns were attacked one after another. Cosmo Canyon, Midgar, Wutai, Junon, and Costa del Sol, all of them nearly wiped out by hordes of monsters and huge demons. These were later revealed to be demi-gods, the deities of the summon materia made flesh. Not only that, but some were actually bonded to the mortals, imparting on them great power. The heroes were no exception to this.

Balaam, the deity to blame for the madness, had once been the god of Chaos. Until he staged a revolt and was exiled from Elysium along with his three partners in crime. They were sealed in the grey-black of the Apocalypse materia. Then Hojo found them, forcing the materia to bond with Vincent's body, thus giving him his fearsome limit breaks. But after his fall into the Lifestream, Balaam and his cronies were able to separate, and were quickly growing in power.

Recognizing the threat, the Planet was quick to respond. She brought back to life two warriors, one to be her voice, and one for an opportunity at redemption. Zack Loire, fallen in his attempts to protect a young Cloud, was given his second chance at life. And Sephiroth, driven insane by ShinRa and controlled by Jenova, was offered the opportunity to heal the world he had once attempted to destroy.

One by one, the friends discovered their bonds with the demi-deities as they gradually drew back together into the fighting unit they had been. Reno rescued himself, fighting free of Tifa and her three minions, just in time to help Wutai in its battle. Vincent found his way to Rocket Town, where he ran into Rude and Shera who put him in contact with Cid. Everyone gradually began to gravitate towards Midgar, and ShinRa's new headquarters.

Sephiroth and Zack's revival was revealed, prompting much distrust. Former enemies were now friends with a bigger foe at hand, one far more threatening than Sephiroth had ever been. Cloud appointed Sephiroth as their new leader, fully believing that he would have another purpose in the battles to come.

In an attempt to end the war early, Sephiroth conducted a full-out assault on what was believed to be Balaam's lair. Suspicious that it might be a trap, he left a small force behind to defend Midgar. He wasn't prepared for the extent of Balaam's manipulation. The bulk of the fighters headed to the Lost Grounds without knowing that two armies were heading for the towns of Icicle and Midgar.

While Sephiroth and his team stepped deeper into the hands of the enemy, those left behind disregarded his orders, unable to justify leaving the fate of innocents in the hands of demons. Reeve, Yuffie and Elena headed to Icicle where they suffered a terrible loss, so severe that the ShinRa president fell into a coma that no amount of healing would cure. Not even the demi-deities could help him.

Meanwhile, Midgar was attacked by the bulk of Balaam's forces. In a desperate attempt to save his wife, unborn child, and those friends remaining behind, Cloud Strife gave his life so that they would escape to Fort Condor. In the aftermath of defeating his opponents, Midgar was laid to waste, becoming little more than a heap of rubble.

At the Lost Grounds, Sephiroth and his team gained a victory, but not without their own share of pain. Both Zack and Cid were injured, Zack joining Reeve in an inexplicable coma. Disheartened, Sephiroth led them to Fort Condor, having learned of the attack of Midgar, but not its aftermath, or what exactly occurred

The companions were beaten and discouraged, Balaam somewhere beyond their abilities to find. Or so they thought. Remembering Tseng's hidden talents, Sephiroth sought out the Turk for his aid in locating their enemy. Fighting his fears, Tseng was successfully able to identify the information, but not without inadvertently discovering the truth.

Balaam had finished the Apocalypto weapon. It was only a matter of time before he used it to destroy their planet. Even if they didn't understand what exactly the machine was, its destructive capabilities could be inferred.

The stage for the final confrontation was an island northeast of Mideel, a new place where the Lifestream welled. It was there that Sephiroth and all that were capable of fighting made their last stand. Live or die, the fate of the planet was in their hands.

Demi-deity and mortal stood together on a stormy morning. The airship Highwind was the first casualty of the battle, going down in a blazing glory but not before its crew was rescued due to Sephiroth's anima's quick thinking. Once on land, the companions were unintentionally separated.

Balaam's true weapon was revealed, Apocalypto nothing more than a tool to break the seal on an insane demi-goddess imprisoned thousands of years ago. Persephone took great pleasure in bringing Tseng to his knees and locking Sephiroth in memories of the past, using him against his fellow teammates. It was only thanks to Isis' sacrifice that Balaam was defeated. She gave her life to take down both her errant son and Persephone.

The biggest shock of all was perhaps when Kami, the creator himself, appeared in front of the heroes. He berated his "children" for the war and officially removed the demi-deities from their purpose in the mortal world. It was his hope that everything would return to normal by his choice, leaving the fate of the planet in the hands of the mortals.

Sephiroth and his team were transported back to Fort Condor courtesy of Kami, ultimately victorious, but not a one of them remaining unchanged after the war. Luck was on their side however, both Zack and Reeve regaining consciousness and easing the sorrows of their loved ones.

A funeral was held for Cloud and one by one, the friends gradually dispersed, moving on with their lives. The planet hovered on the edge of peace, frantically trying to recover from the devastation. It was Reeve who answered the call of the people, turning the once hated ShinRa into the World Regenesis Organization, dedicated to the protection of the planet and its citizens.

Time moved forward, slowly but surely, letting the world heal and recover from the second war in less than a year's time. The last of the mako reactors were abandoned, inspiring a search for new energy-creating methods. Children were born, lives were changed, love was admitted... and secrets were born. A new threat emerged that none expected, a deadly disease called Geostigma that attacked indiscriminately.

No one knew how it was spread or what caused it... or how to cure it. Death was the ultimate result of this tragic sickness, and it was sweeping throughout the world but mostly, it struck children. Seeping wounds, constant fatigue, discoloration of the skin... these symptoms were only a small part of the malady. WRO scientists worked round the clock to research the disease but were coming up empty handed.

The aforementioned peace seemed but a distant memory, but the people of Gaia still had hope. They still thought to believe that it would all be right again, that they could dream without sadness.

Little did they know fate had yet one more trial in store for them.

* * *

A/N: The last part was based on the movie itself where Marlene gives a rundown on what happened in the game. I hope this little review helped remind everyone of the events in the previous few stories. Thanks! 


	3. Falling Inside the Black

**Shattered Children**

**Chapter One: Falling Inside the Black**

The helicopter rumbled noisily around them, the steady whirr of the blades a very comforting sound. The cold wind beat harshly against the chopper, seeking to knock it from the sky. Only Sion's firm hand on the throttle kept them from instant death. If she didn't have complete faith in the scientist's abilities, Elena might have been tempted to take the helm from him.

She leaned towards the window, her eyes scanning the rugged ground beneath them in an attempt to find a somewhat safe place to land. It was difficult to see, however, thanks to the blanket of mist that covered the terrain. She could barely make out the dim glow of the Lifestream from where it pooled in the center.

"There's relatively flat ground to the north," Zack suggested, his voice coming in clear through the headset. He sat in passenger's seat behind Sion and Elena, also searching. "We'll have to hike but it shouldn't be a problem."

The blonde pursed her lips, following his directions and finding said site. "Looks good to me. See it?"

Sion nodded,dark grey eyes sliding to glance out the window, reddish hair slipping into his face. "That'll work. Hold on, I'm taking her down." He steadied his grip on the throttle, carefully angling the helicopter towards the tract of land.

The wind buffeted at the side of the chopper, putting up a good fight. Elena couldn't help gripping onto her armrest, gritting her teeth against the uncomfortable shaking. She didn't fancy plummeting to her death. Therefore, she was thanking the gods when they finally landed safely, though not without a noticeable jerk.

"I'll have to leave her running," the technician announced as he took off his head set and hung it on the peg in front of him. "Otherwise the rotors will ice up and then we'll never get out of here."

Zack nodded in understanding as he shifted forward in his seat and slid the door open, a blast of cold air whipping him in the face. "I doubt there's anything here that will steal her," he said, sliding out of the helicopter and touching down on rocky ground.

He groaned, stretching his arms above his head. The noise of cracking bones floated to his ears, along with two doors slamming shut as Sion and Elena joined him outside the helicopter. The technician was weighted down with more machines, receivers, and technology than Zack could even identify, looking as if his slight frame would topple over at any moment.

Elena grinned lightly, ruffling the younger man's hair. "Need some help, Sion?"

He shook his head, dislodging her hold and trying to move his hair from his eyes. But the wind made that near impossible. "I've got it, Miss Elena."

Reaching back into the chopper and pulling out his sword, Zack quickly shrugged it into place. "Come on, 'Lena. You know better than to question a man's pride," he commented with a grin, teasingly.

Elena rolled her eyes. "You have none," she countered, slipping a hand into her pocket and pulling out a rubberband to tie her hair back.

"So says you." Zack smirked and turned away, his gaze sweeping over the sloping rocky ground as it dipped down into the crater. He could barely make out the churning green mass of the Lifestream pool a short hike away.

"I see," Sion muttered to himself, his words attracting their attention.

Zack and Elena turned towards the scientist, finding him kneeling a good distance away and examining something they could not see. They headed his direction, picking their way carefully across the ground.

"What is it?" the Turk asked, crouching down next to him.

The technician lifted up a device, covered in rust. "It's been corroded," he explained simply. "I don't know how. Doesn't look like water but something else." He frowned, shifting to the side to shove the broken instrument into his pack. "I'll have to take it back to the lab to really figure it out."

Elena sighed, her brow furrowing. "That doesn't sound good," she mumbled before rising to her feet. "What do you think, Zack...?" her words trailed off as she caught sight of her lover, seemingly entranced by something. She followed his gaze, which was locked on the glimmering green of the mako pool.

"Zack?"

"What is that?" the former SOLDIER murmured to himself as he headed towards the glow, stumbling slightly on the rocks.

Concerned, Elena followed after him, trying to peer through the increasingly thickening mist. "Zack?"

He acted as if he didn't hear her, moving swiftly down the slope. Within seconds, he was standing at the edge of the Lifestream. He knelt and reached for something in the shallows, fingers wrapping around an object that seemed to be surrounded in a darkish light. Zack shuddered, a malevolent feeling ghosting across his skin as he tugged the strange item towards him, bringing it closer for inspection.

And then he heard them, sibilant whispers on the edge of his mind.

_**My children... my son... come to me. **_

His eyes widened and he abruptly dropped the item, scuttling away from it almost immediately, an unmanly noise threatening to escape from his mouth. He recognized that voice, had learned to block it from his mind. He _knew_ that pleading tone. And he was certain, that his best friend had heard it all too much.

"Zack? What the hell's the matter with you?" Elena demanded, frowning at her lover's strange behavior.

He shook his head, crystalline eyes locked on the darkly glowing object. "Jenova," he muttered, hating how shaky his voice was.

He didn't like the idea of voices in his head. He had only a small amount of Jenova in him, his body hadn't accepted them during those experiments. But even he had heard her clear as day. He couldn't imagine what Sephiroth was forced to endure.

Elena's eyes widened as she looked down at the small object, its true shape barely visible beyond the glow. If not for the dark coloring, it would almost be innocuous, like a fallen star or something similar. It was hard for her to believe that it was Jenova but she knew that Zack wouldn't be mistaken about something like that.

"What should we do with it?" Sion asked, having come to investigate when he noticed their odd demeanor.

"Destroy it," Zack uttered, sounding slightly strangled. "Get rid of the bitch."

The technician shook his head, in immediate disagreement. "If we do that, we may be getting rid of our only chance to cure the Geostigma. What if it _is_ caused by Jenova? We can't afford to lose this opportunity," he reasoned.

Sion shrugged,letting a bag slip from his shoulder. He crouched to dig around in it, finally producing a small, black box with 'Hazardous Materials' printed plainly on the sides. A quick twist of his wrist and one end of the box opened up, swinging aside to show that it was empty.

"I can preserve it, no problem," he added, scooping the glowing piece into the box and rapidly screwing the lid closed atop it.

Zack visibly tried to regain control of himself as he rose to his feet, swiping a hand over his suddenly sweaty face. "It would be better to just destroy her now," he argued, his other hand already creeping towards the sword on his back. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, and the bodies of far too many good men.

Elena was hedging between the two. Both had valid points. In the end, however, it wasn't their decision to make. It was Reeve's. And she knew he would always vote for the people. She could count on her boss to destroy Jenova in the end, but only after exhausting all resources to find a cure for the Geostigma disease. She trusted Reeve not to perform terrible human experiments.

"It doesn't matter," she remarked with a sigh, knowing Zack would hope that she would take his side. "It's Reeve's decision, not ours. You know you can trust him, Zack."

The former SOLDIER looked as if he might argue before stiffly nodding his head in agreement. "Then let's get the fuck out of here. There's nothing left to do."

Sion thought it wise not to comment further and moved quickly to stuff the Jenova remnants into his pack. He froze, however, when a voice suddenly emerged out of the fog.

"Put her down."

Zack and Elena whirled towards the voice, taken by surprise since they hadn't heard anyone approach. Three forms were stepping out of the mist, dressed in black attire but the rest of their features still hidden by the fog. Immediately, the two fighters closed ranks, Sion shouldering his bag and putting himself nervously between them. He was a technician, not a fighter.

"I said, put her down," the same voice repeated, the sounds of booted feet crunching over stone now audible.

Zack gritted his teeth, hand moving to the hilt of his sword to draw at a moment's notice. "Who's there?" he demanded, eyes trained on the approaching figures.

Moments later, it took all of his self-control to stop his jaw from dropping. The three men that stepped out of the mist could have been Sephiroth's younger brothers. All had the same pale skin, gleaming silver hair of various lengths, and shimmering jade eyes. They were dressed in black leather, and the weapons visible did not look to be for show.

Elena gasped, her fingers curling around her Flare Gun. "What the hell?" she demanded. "Who the fuck are you?"

The one in the middle, shorter than the others and with layered hair brushing his shoulders, smirked. "Those who are about to die, have no need to know," he responded, completely self-assured.

An uncertain feeling crept up Zack's spine. He did not like the madness glinting behind the gaze of that one. He drew his sword, the metal whisping from the sheath with an evident hiss. "Sion," he uttered lowly, never taking his eyes off the new arrivals. "Take the sample and run."

Brown eyes darted his direction. "We fight?" Elena stated, flicking the safety off.

Zack nodded. He only hoped they weren't as skilled as the man they resembled. Otherwise he and the Turk wouldn't stand a chance. Against one Sephiroth, Zack could barely handle his own. He didn't dare think of the skill involved in surviving against three.

"What do you think, nii-san?" one of the males murmured, his voice a silken purr. Long strands slid off his shoulder with a flick of his hand. "Shall we kill..."

"... or play?" the last finished, taller and broader than the others.

"Don't mock us," Elena spat angrily, irritated that their opponents obviously weren't taking them seriously.

The middle one tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly. "Let Mother go and perhaps we'll make your deaths quick."

Zack growled low in his throat. "Sion! Go!" he ordered before abruptly darting forward,

First Ken raised in a broad slash aimed for any one of his three opponents.

The technician swallowed down a squeak and nodded, shifting his heavy bags before abruptly taking off as fast as he could scrabble across the ground. Fear was pulsing heavy in his heart and he didn't dare look back.

"Loz!" the one who seemed to be the leader barked.

Tall and Broad jerked his head in acknowledgment, grinning as he moved to follow Sion. Until a gunshot went off at his feet, sending a blaze of fire exploding in front of his face. Green eyes whipped Elena's direction, narrowing in anger as she calmly aimed again, determined to allow Sion time to get away. The sound of metal clanging on metal floated to her ears as Zack encountered the shortest man.

"You want to play?" Loz asked, sounding far too young for his size.

Elena's eyes narrowed and she squeezed off another round, her other hand already creeping to her back where she kept a second gun, this one charged with something a bit more powerful. Her opponent deftly avoided the shot, seeming to disappear before reappearing again, this time closer. He closed his fingers, making a fist and cracking every knuckle in a very intimidating noise.

It was like facing down Sephiroth and Elena didn't like it one bit.

On the other side of her, Zack gritted his teeth, his blade meeting his opponent's strange sword with a ringing shriek. The slimmer male smirked and twisted away, performing a fluid movement that he had only ever seen Sephiroth use. It was beyond the scope of normal human abilities. An uncertain feeling of worry began to settle in Zack's belly and in that moment, he was glad that his best friend was currently AWOL.

"Who are you?" Zack demanded again, fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. '_And why the hell do you look like Sephiroth?'_

His opponent merely smirked and came at him again, quick slashes that Zack could only block as he was pushed steadily backwards. From the corner of his eye he caught movement.

Without thinking, he threw out a Bio in the direction of the third male he had nearly forgotten about. The purplish-green slammed into his body but surprisingly, the brat just shook it off, raising a weapon that mysteriously resembled a gun and sword combination. A bullet slammed into Zack's shoulder, throwing him off balance. He grunted and faltered, giving his other opponent enough time to strike the First Ken from his hold. It scattered across the ground far from his reach.

Blood dripped down his arm, plopping scarlet onto the misty ground. Zack huffed, surprised at his shortness of breath as he clutched the wound and glared at the two men who were likely brothers. They had the same seductive and snide smirk.

He heard a cry of pain and Zack whipped his head to the side, watching as Elena was punched square in the stomach, her breath whooshing out of her in one big huff. Her guns clattered to the ground from nerveless fingers as she dropped, the tallest man standing over her victoriously.

"Elena!" Zack shouted, already turning to head to her side. In the distance, he heard the sound of rotors whipping through the air and was greatly relieved to learn that Sion had escaped. One less thing to worry about.

Then one of the brats suddenly appeared in front of him, almost as if he had teleported in a split-second. He caught a glimpse of overly-bright and catlike green irises before pain flared across the back of his head. He saw stars and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He slumped to the ground, lost to the world of darkness.

Zack's unconscious body struck the rocky soil harshly and his opponents stood over him, calmly returning their weapons to their sheaths.

"What should we do with them, Kadaj?" Loz asked, cracking his neck after the short battle. He hadn't even broken a sweat, nor did he have much fun. It was very disappointing.

The third male – Yazoo – crouched down next to Elena's prone body, fingering her blond hair. "Kill them?" he asked, tilting his head to the side in consideration.

Kadaj frowned, examining their fallen foes intently. Something pulsed in his brain as he stared at the dark-haired man, making him wince. "No," he decided. "They know where Mother is. We'll make them tell us." Putting a hand to his forehead, he walked away. "Tie them up. We'll take that ShinRa scum back to the camp."

Yazoo smirked as he accepted the rope his elder brother handed to him. "It sounds like fun," he commented, deft hands knotting the restraints around the woman.

"Maybe I can play with this one, ne?" Loz asked, nudging the unconscious Zack with his foot. The former SOLDIER didn't stir.

Both of them snickered.

Boots crunched over rock and the two looked up to see their youngest brother returning, control back in his expression. "After we find out what we need, you can do whatever you want."

Kadaj smirked.

* * *

"_Useless..."_

"_Failure..."_

"_Get rid of him." _

_He felt as if those words were etched into his brain. Kadaj knew they weren't speaking about him, of course. No, those hateful words were for his eldest brother. It wouldn't be long before __they__ would be repeated for Yazoo as well. And then Kadaj would be all alone with the needles and the tests, and the cold eyes staring at him behind harsh, reflective lenses. _

_There wouldn't be anyone to wipe away tears that never made it past the tip of his chin, or to comfort him when he sobbed in the dead of the night. Silent weeping that wasn't allowed to be heard beyond the small cell he had called home from the moment he was born. A simple square chamber with cot and toilet, much like a prison. Only this one didn't hold criminals but test subjects. _

_Failures, many, many failures. _

_It was for that comfort, that emotion, that Loz had been evaluated as a complete and utter disappointment. He was too expressive, too quick to smile, too quick to cry. He cared for his brothers, and in the eyes of the researchers and the scientists, that made him too weak to be their next Sephiroth. But they had already sensed their impending failure and Yazoo was in the process of receiving his next round of treatments. _

_ShinRa wasn't wasting any time in capitalizing on what they considered to be a valuable resource. _

_Kadaj knew, however, with the eagerness they threw his direction, that it wouldn't be long before Yazoo was tossed away like trash. Never mind that he was human, or as close to it as they could be with their alien cells and the mako and endless tests. Never mind that they had given him life. They thought it meant that they had the right to take it away. _

_If he was meant to be so strong, Kadaj wondered why he felt so powerless now. _

_The youngest brother, the youngest son of Alice and Euphraim Hojo, drew his knees up to his chest and huddled on his cot, pressed into the furthest corner of the door. The very young part of him thought that if he made himself tiny, maybe he would become invisible. Maybe he would even disappear. To the Promised Land like their predecessor had once believed in. To somewhere happier. An existence without pain. He was too young to have such thoughts. _

_A scream, thin and strangled echoed out of the vents and Kadaj's blood began to run cold. He was selfish to be glad that it wasn't him making that ragged noise. He felt guilty because he recognized the voice. His very own brother, his flesh and blood. His own body ached in sympathy and he clenched his eyes against the cry. _

_It wouldn't be long before Yazoo was trash as well. He didn't know how to bite down against the pain. He didn't know how to pretend that it didn't hurt. _

_Yazoo wasn't as strong as Kadaj or Loz, but he had brother's beauty. That seductive charm that could make an army fall in love with him, maybe even to its death. He had the grace and the intelligence, but not the speed or skill. He didn't have the strength either. _

_And Yazoo had inherited Sephiroth's dependency. While ShinRa thought they could use that to manipulate that to their advantage in the beginning, they were now viewing it as a definite imperfection._

_Kadaj could see it in their eyes. They weren't satisfied with Yazoo either. And now that they had him, the newest and possibly last child, there would be no use left for the other two. He hadn't seen Loz in a week, since they locked him in his own room. They never could figure out how he kept escaping._

_His skin prickled and the youngest Sephiroth clone shivered, his flesh pimpling. It was always cold and sterile, an endless sea of harsh white light that was probing and bright. He hated it, hated them. There was something burning inside of him, both hot and cold, building in the pit of his belly. He was certain it was hatred, it was a desire to destroy. It was pure, unadulterated loathing. _

_He didn't tell them that he heard the whispers, heard _her_ whispers. And his brothers didn't either. It wouldn't have made a difference for Yazoo or Loz but Kadaj knew, there would be more tests for him. More needles and mako and nights spent curled up in a ball underneath his bed, trying not to vomit everywhere. Hiding from the boogeyman in the form of his mother. _

_No, that was wrong. That woman wasn't his mother. She birthed them, she carried them in her womb, but she wasn't his mother, their mother. She didn't murmur to him in the quiet, promising and giving comfort. She didn't speak of what _they_deserved. She didn't talk about fire, burning bright and cleansing. _

_But_she _did. That alien, that _Jenova

_Kadaj supposed that the researchers thought they could prevent another Sephiroth if they made the knowledge clear exactly what he was. They didn't hide anything. He knew that Jenova was ingrained into his body. He knew that he was the product of a science experiment. In fact, most of them seemed to delight in explaining in great detail exactly what method of torture was on the menu for the day. He never showed his fear, though. That might have disappointed them. _

_In any case, there was only one reason he spared Alice Hojo a vicious death in the back of his mind. It was because of her that their father, their sperm donor, hadn't touched them. She hypothesized that Sephiroth's madness might have been part and parcel to Hojo's games; she wouldn't let the mad scientist ruin their new clones. She didn't want them broken irreparably. Malleable, yes. Broken, no. So Hojo wasn't allowed to touch them. _

_It was a small comfort. _

_Voices floated to his ears. Kadaj cringed, pressing himself more firmly against the cold stone of the small room. His eyes darted towards the door, able to see shadows dancing in the small gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. A very childish, frightened part of him didn't want to look. But he also knew it was better to be prepared. _

"_This room?" The voice was female and not one he recognized. Slightly alto, actually rather soft and kind almost. Or perhaps that was just the lingering traces of hope that they still hadn't been beaten out of him. _

_Another voice responded as the click-click of heels stopped directly outside his door. "Yes. He's the one being considered as a viable host with the capacity to become Sephiroth." _

_Kadaj's heart beat a faster rhythm, nearly choking him on the continuous pounding. He changed his mind. The voices no longer sounded kind, but more frightening than the prospect of hell. _

_He knew that tone, that hint of eagerness. It was the same that promised pain, that promised more experiments. It was the kind that hovered over him, smiles glinting and eyes hard behind goggles as needles were pricked into his skin. Cold fingers against his flesh and burning mako in his veins, so hot that it felt as if a flame had licked at him, turning his blood to boiling. _

"_And the others?"_

"_She was going to destroy them tomorrow." _

_He breathed in sharply. Tomorrow... they were going to kill his brothers tomorrow? Then for what was Yazoo's suffering today? A surge of helplessness attacked him again. There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all. If only he'd had his sword or some materia or something. _

_A foot began to tap on the ground outside his door. "Hmm. Let me in. I want to talk to him." _

"_If you say so." _

_Keys jangled noisily and metal scraped in the lock, causing Kadaj to startle at the sudden jarring noise. He stared at the door, wondering what horror in the form of a human would come through this time. More dripping needles? More training sessions? More tests on his tolerance to pain?_  
_  
The door swung open slowly, the movements no doubt hampered by the sheer weight of it. A shriek of protest emerged from the hinges and two bodies stepped into the corona of light, their identities hidden by the stream of brightness coming in from the hallway. Kadaj squinted, his pupils immediately contracting to small pinholes in the illumination. _

"_He's just a kid," one woman commented, her voice slightly touched with horror. "How old is he? Twelve? Thirteen?" _

_They stepped further into the room, one slapping her hand against the outside wall to turn on the main light before she followed the other inside. Kadaj got a good look at them. He recognized one woman, though a bit belatedly. Rufus' bitch. The other was one of the lab assistants. She usually ran the results of his tests. He hated her with as much of a passion as he hated everyone who worked for Hojo. _

_The lab tech shook her head, answering Tifa's question. "Sixteen." _

_Cherry-brown eyes widened, her gaze flickering from Kadaj, who had yet to unfurl himself from his protective corner, back to the assistant. "And the others?" _

_She held up a clipboard, which Kadaj tardily noticed having been in her possession. "Loz is twenty and Yazoo, seventeen."_

_Tifa shook her head. "Unbelievable. That Hojo is a piece." Her gaze hardened before she turned to Kadaj. "I'm taking them." _

_The technician blinked. "What? But Dr. Hojo--"_

"_-- is dead and I don't particularly care for that bitch of his either," Tifa informed her dismissively. She flicked her fingers at the younger girl. "Get out. I'm shutting this place down and burning it to the ground. The last thing we need is another Sephiroth." The last, however, was said so quietly that Kadaj almost missed it. _

_He was confused. What did Rufus' whore want with him? And his brothers? After all, she had said 'them' not 'him'. He knew next to nothing of the busty brunette, except for the information that Sephiroth had once burned down her hometown. Why would she care what happened to a bunch of lab experiments?_

_And Dr. Hojo was dead? Well, that explained the man's absence. Kadaj hadn't wanted to believe that it would last for a long time so he had only been waiting for the pin to drop. No more it seemed, would he be subjected to that piercing, hungry stare. _

_He watched in morbid curiosity, and a hint of fear he would never admit to aloud, as the lab tech gaped at Tifa for a long moment before hurriedly nodding. She whirled and escaped out the door, practically fleeing from the small room. With her gone, Tifa turned back towards Kadaj, watching the youngest brother virtually cower on the bed. _

"_You want out of here?" she asked him plainly, taking a few steps towards the bed, hips swaying in a motion that was probably more habit now than a true attempt at seduction. "You want to stay here and be poked and prodded at? Watch your brothers die because they were considered failures?" _

_Kadaj's eyes narrowed. "No," he hissed, perturbed that she would even suggest that he enjoyed his life. _

_His body trembled with a faint fury and in the back of his mind, he could hear _her _voice, purring softly. Telling him to take this chance. That they could be together again, and nothing could stop them. _

_It was like the voice of an angel. _

"_No!" he repeated, this time a bit louder, more for his benefit than the sake of Tifa's hearing. He unfurled his limbs, bright green eyes swirling with determination. _

_She watched him for a moment, shaking her head. "Just like him," she breathed, flicking a hand through her hair. "Well, come on then."_

_It took only seconds for Kadaj to scramble off of the bed, shivering slightly as cool air washed over his skin when he moved from his warm huddle. He stood there, thin garments clinging to his lithe frame, watching Rufus' whore warily. He still wasn't sure what she wanted from him. He stood well over her height, even at sixteen, despite still having one or two more growth spurts to come. _

"_Where?" the boy asked. _

_She smirked, one hand settling on her hip. "To rescue your brothers. And get revenge, of course." _

_Revenge. He liked the sound of it. Jenova did, too. She stirred inside of him, basically purring in delight. She whispered of it, of burning and death. Jenova murmured to him, encouraging him with soothing words and brief, ghostly caresses across the edge of his mind. A subtle thrum of power vibrated through his nerves. _

"_You're going to use me," he accused, hands balling into fists at his side though he made no move to attack. _

_She eyed him. "More or less. But if you'd rather stay here, then by all means." Tifa gestured towards the bed behind him, and the thin window which barely let in a stream of greyish light from the stormy day beyond. "Keep your life in this cell. Let your brothers die if that is what you want." _

_No, that was the last thing he wanted. His brothers were all he had. They were his family, his kin, the only ones that mattered to him in the world. Both Yazoo and Loz had spent their entire lives protecting him to the best of their abilities. Helping him to hide his true powers from the researchers and comforting him when he needed it the most. He had never been able to repay them. _

_Until now. _

_Kadaj tilted his head up, squaring his chin defiantly. "Then I am using you as well," he countered with such determination that he could feel it strumming through his bones. _

_Tifa smiled before turning on her heels and stepping towards the door. "Follow me. I'll take you to them." _

_He didn't spare another glance at the empty cell behind him, certain he wouldn't think twice about the space that had been his prison. Kadaj squared his shoulders and moved to follow after the President's whore. In the back of his mind, Jenova hummed with anticipation, cooing ideas and thoughts that settled all too right in the young boy's heart. _

_Even if he had wanted to, he could not ignore her voice. It was simply too insistent and strong, too compelling for his young mind to disregard. She was sultry, whispering all too easily of deceit and power and she longed to be free once again, to bring calamity as had been her original purpose. Jenova was calling to her children, begging to be heard. She was..._

_... there now, in the back of his mind, like the subtle purr of a hallucinogenic, despite the fact that Vincent had never been one for drugs of any kind. Alcohol perhaps, even meaningless sex in his days as a Turk all those years ago, but he could honestly say that he had never tried any sort of illegal substance. _

_Vincent knew that in truth, he was lying in bed with Cid, the pilot cuddled close to his side and likely attempting to steal all of the blankets and space on the mattress. However, he was also locked within this dream world, trapped in an inescapable nightmare brought by _her._There could be no other explanation. Her voice, once masked by the callings of the demons inhabiting his body, was now all too free to speak its dangerous seduction. _

_He was determined not to be fooled, however. Even if the scenes were all too real. _

_The scent of blood was buried deep under the sterility of the lab, but that didn't mean he couldn't still taste it on his tongue. It was bitterly cold, the metal of the gurney harsh beneath him. He could feel it through the thickness of his clothes, black and red garments that he readily recognized. The bright white light was bringing back memories he longed to keep buried. _

_Vincent groaned, attempting to lift one hand to his aching forehead. The rattling of manacles hampered the movement. A quick check informed him that both feet were restrained as well. Lovely. _

_The last he remembered was the crater and Cloud disappearing after handing the Black Materia over to Sephiroth. He had a vague recollection of being forced onto Rufus' airship before something struck him across the back of the head, sending him straight into unconsciousness. _

_Keys rattled in a lock and a door swung open beyond his sight, hinges squeaking noisily. Vincent lifted his head, craning his neck to glance around but it was futile. His ears picked up shuffling steps and low muttering, but nothing concrete. The person drew nearer to his position, feet sliding eerily quiet across the linoleum. _

_Vincent turned his head to the side, rage filling him to the core when the individual's identity was revealed. Greasy black hair, slicked against his scalp and thick glasses, gleaming unnaturally in the laboratory light were only one of many memories he never wanted to relieve. A perpetual sneer set in sallow skin, white lab coat, and clipboard in hand, Vincent had been thrust back into the past, thirty years gone. _

"_Hojo," he hissed, loathing emanating from every syllable. _

_The scientist paused from where he was planning on simply shuffling by, pushing up his glasses with one finger. "So you're awake," he said. "How interesting. I would have thought the sedative to last longer than this." He turned and tottered to Vincent's side, looming over the former Turk. "You haven't changed a bit since I locked you away, Valentine."_

_His eyes narrowed. "I can't say the same for you," Vincent spat, baring his teeth furiously. _

_It was true. The scientist had changed for the worse, skin growing more and more yellow with time, wrinkles invading his skin. He walked with a more noticeable hunch to his shoulders and his hair was thinning, with a receding hairline that made Vincent want to point and laugh. Only, he didn't because considering the situation, that would have made him look slightly crazed. _

_Hojo's eyebrow twitched, a faint sign of his irritation. He didn't speak however, one hand dipping into his pocket as the other tossed the clipboard onto Vincent's stomach. His fingers emerged with a needle while his other hand calmly yanked the former Turk's sleeve up to his elbow. _

"_What are you doing?" Vincent demanded, horror replacing some of his anger. He began to twist in his bindings, desperate to get away. It was his worst nightmare, to be under Hojo's influence again._

_Hojo smirked, amused by his struggles. "You never could hide the small flashes of fear," he commented before sticking the needle into Vincent's arm. But rather than inject some substance that Vincent knew he couldn't identify, it appeared that the scientist was merely drawing blood. _

"_And here I'd thought I'd broken that ridiculous spirit of yours. Pity." Hojo sniffed, unconcerned with his victims obvious loathing of his person. _

_Vincent snarled, jerking his body against the cold gurney. "I'll kill you," he spat, the promise reverberating throughout him. It was the only reason he had risen from his sleep. _

_The bespectacled male seemed unconcerned. "Tell me, Valentine, can you hear her voice?" Hojo asked, leaning closer to Vincent. "Their dark whispers? Can you taste the need for blood?" _

_He jerked his head away, disliking the feel of Hojo's hot and foul breath washing over his face. It brought to mind more images he had tossed aside. Of hands squeezing his hips as he struggled to keep from retching again, nearly falling face forward into a pile of his own vomit. Of being torn apart over and over again, and more injections than he could count. Fire burning through his veins and watching his own hands spill blood through a haze of delirious madness. _

_Vincent's hands curled into fists, his claw making a harsh grating sound against the table. That feeling of powerlessness had returned; yet, he longed for nothing more than to grab Hojo by the throat and squeeze. The metal of his restraints squealed as they bent slightly under his greater strength. _

_Hojo lifted a brow and straightened, his hand still clutching the needle of Vincent's blood. "Interesting," he commented, pushing up his glasses with free fingers. "I'll need stronger manacles, it seems. And to think, I had grown bored of playing with you." _

_**His death would be easy, my child. **_

_The voice invaded before he realized what it was. Vincent stiffened, a breath caught in his throat. He darted his gaze to the sides but no one was there except Hojo, watching him with rapt attention. _

_**Won't you let me save you?**_

_An invisible hand brushed across his brow, a touch that he might have thought he had imagined. Vincent jerked away from it, his body leaping in surprise against the gurney. Enough that it rattled loudly, breaking through the sterile, sudden silence throughout the room. _

_He could feel her stirring, slow and sluggish, but gaining in strength. _

_The edges of his vision faded and throbbed, pulsing into it all swirled into darkness. He was floating in nothing, surrounded by emptiness. And then there was presence, overwhelming him, all around. A nonexistent something that he couldn't deny. _

_And then arms were wrapping around him from behind, slim and warm. A body pressed to his, but it was more like a pressure than a feeling. It was warm, welcoming, more like family than a lover. There was breath against his ear, a soft puff, and a soft hand brushed against his belly, holding him close. _

_**My child**__she whispered into his ear. __**My son. You are a part of me. **_

_His eyes widened with the sudden realization. "Jenova..." Vincent said aloud, his voice a harsh noise in the almost reverent quiet. _

_He felt invisible fingers tugging on his memories, a million, misty tendrils sifting lightly through his mind. Uncertainty pulsed in his heart. _

_**Yes. Come to me, Vincent. **_

_There was a flash of something. Images beamed directly into his brain, flitting across his eyes almost faster than he could identify. A pale white forest of icy trees, spindly and stiff. The sound of water splashing, a structure made of white stone, shaped like a cocoon. The Northern Crater, covered in an almost impenetrable mist. _

_**Join with me. **_

_Her voice was more insistent now. A purr that shivered down his spine. She was calling to him, calling him home. Her fingers slid from the left side of his abdomen, trailing around his side, to flutter against his lower back. He shuddered, wondering why he wasn't fighting, why he wasn't trying to get away. _

_**I will heal you, and take away the pain. We will make this Planet pay for harming you, **__she hissed, anger darkening her tone. _

_Vincent jerked away, the change enough to crack the seductive spell she was weaving around him. But her arms tightened into an iron vise and in the formless dark, he couldn't find leverage on anything to break her hold. Nor did his body want to listen._

_**Why do you fight me? **__She asked in a hurt tone, obviously contrived. __**Why do you continue to resist? **_

"_I am not your child!" he growled through clenched teeth, forcing the words from his throat. _

_Wake up! He told himself. Wake up, damn you! _

_**You will come to me, just like my other children. Together, we will destroy **_**everything.**

"_No!" He thought if he yelled long enough, if he twisted his shoulders, he would somehow wake from this nightmare. _

"Vince!"

_**My child, my son...**_

"Vince!"

His eyes flew open and Vincent jerked upwards in the bed, practically flying out from beneath the covers. His heart was beating an irregular rhythm in his chest, breath coming out in sharp pants and he swore he could still feel her arms on him, both freezing and burning hot. Her voice echoed in his mind.

_My child, my child…_

Hands settled on his shoulders and he reacted purely on instinct, striking out with a fist. Only the reflexes of having recently survived a battle kept Cid from being clipped in the face as he hurriedly ducked to the side.

"Vince!"

The ex-Turk blinked, finally realizing where, exactly, he was. He turned his head, looking directly into ice blue eyes.

"Cid," Vincent murmured, shuddering slightly as he drew in a deep breath. The sound of the airship thrumming around them was a comforting background noise, further proving that he had indeed escaped his nightmare.

It had felt so real, and he couldn't shake the unclean feeling from him. Damn Hojo, and damn Jenova, too. He could sense her calling inside of him, filling his body with an urgency to move, to go somewhere. To find her and complete the summons. To start the Reunion all over again.

Something was going on, Vincent was certain of it. Jenova was _not_dead, as they had wanted to believe. And she was calling for her children, for all those with the Jenova cells embedded within them. Which meant that their planet was facing another storm. Vincent could only hope that Sephiroth was not going to be the one to suffer in the end of it.

But he couldn't say because he didn't know. He had to find out; he needed to see what was going on. The flashes of the dream were at the forefront of his mind. The Northern Crater. The Forest of the Ancients. The City of the Ancients. He had to go there. He _had_ to.

Cid's fingers squeezed him comfortingly, drawing his attention. He sat crouched on his knees in front of Vincent, the light from the window illuminating the bareness of his flesh. He had gained some weight since the Chaos War, thankfully, and was finally looking healthy again.

"What's goin' on?" Cid asked earnestly, his eyes searching Vincent's face for some sign. He didn't like the barely masked fear he found there. "You were havin' a nightmare of some kind."

The ex-Turk shivered, wrapping him arms around himself. "Worse than that," he explained, brow drawing together darkly. He closed his eyes, thinking deeply. "I have to go."

Hand slid down his arms, rubbing them in an attempt to chase off the chill, despite the warmth of the room. "What the hell're you talkin' bout?" the pilot demanded, confused by his lover's strange behavior.

Vincent shook his head, finally lifting his gaze back to Cid's. "Jenova," he explained simply. "She's back, or something. I don't know. I need to find out."

The pilot was absolutely speechless for a moment. "Jenova," he repeated, as if unable to fathom the consequences of such a thing happening. "I thought we killed that bitch."

"So did I. Cid, I need to go to the Forest of the Ancients. I have to confirm something."

The muttered curse was not unexpected. "Like hell!" the pilot argued, knowing his lover's propensity to do everything on his own. "You're not in your best shape!"

"Would you rather send Sephiroth into Jenova's arms?" Vincent countered reasonably, knowing that the blond far out beat a mule for stubbornness. "I'm the only one who can sense her without having to worry about losing my mind."

Cid stared at him for a moment. "You're protectin' Sephiroth," he stated in sudden understanding. He had been aware of Vincent's increasing feelings of paternity towards the former General, but hadn't realized how strong it had grown recently. Not that either of them would admit to something like that aloud.

Before Vincent could answer or refute him, Cid continued, "Then I'm going with you."

The gunman shook his head, his jaw firmly set. "No, Cid. I need you here on the Valenwind. I don't know what might happen out there, or in the world for that matter." Knowing that frustration was building a hefty steam inside of his lover, Vincent set his hand down on Cid's, squeezing comfortingly.

"I'm not leaving you, chief. Jenova has no sway over me, no matter how much she tries."

Cid sighed, reaching forward and suddenly dragging Vincent into his arms, the man's personal space be damned. He was tactful enough not to mention that his lover was still shaking slightly. Vincent felt cold against him, reluctantly wrapping his own arms around the pilot's abdomen.

"At least ya told me this time," he replied gruffly. "S'better than sneakin' off into the night."

"I needed a ride," Vincent responded after a moment, his voice muffled by the pilot's chest. It was almost a joke, for him.

Blue eyes rolled. "Now ya choose to be a comedian. So... the Forest it is, then. And here I thought all the fighting was over."

"It's never really over," the dark-haired man murmured, giving in to his need and wrapping his arms around Cid. "At least, not for us."

* * *

A/N: I bit confusing in there but I hope you got through it okay. Leave a review and let me know how I'm doing. 


	4. Poisoned Rationality

**Warning for tiny limesh yaoi bit down there at the bottom. Other than that, enjoy! **

**Shattered Children: Chapter Two**

**Poisoned Rationality**

It was quiet, unnaturally so. Aeris sighed softly to herself as she stood in the doorway, watching Denzel and Marlene. It was the children's room, but it was quiet. No sounds of play, no joyful laughter. Only a desperate hope that perhaps this time it had worked. That Reeve's scientists were actually useful for once. But Aeris knew better than that. Even the children did. But that didn't stop them from trying.

They should have been celebrating. They should have been happy. Instead, Denzel moped for a Sephiroth that was hardly around, battling on his own against a crippling disease that was killing people worldwide. Marlene lived in constant fear of losing her best friend to a sickness she couldn't help cure. And Aeris worried that her delicately growing family would shatter.

In the room, Marlene shifted worriedly in her seat at Denzel's bed as the small boy moaned in pain, rolling over. His eyes fluttered open, the bandage that was lying on his forehead slipping off to the side and revealing the blackened bruise of the Geostigma. It made Aeris' heart leap every time she looked at it. There was nothing she could do. No materia, no herbs, none of her healing powers would work on it.

She had never felt more helpless in her entire life than when she looked at that incurable disease. Aeris wholly wished that she could speak with Hephaestion. But the part of her mind where he usually resided was markedly empty, complying as always with his Lord's orders. He had promised to come if she called, however, but she still missed his wisdom and his calming presence.

"Did it work?" the brunet asked sleepily, one hand rubbing at his eyes to clear out the grime from having slept too long.

Marlene's brown eyes darkened with sadness as she shook her head, tears glistening no matter how much she tried to hold them back. "Don't worry," she choked out, somehow managing to be brave despite it all. "I'm sure Uncle Reeve will find the cure soon."

Aeris shifted and the floor creaked despite her attempts to remain silent. Instantly, the young boy's eyes shot her direction, always hopeful that his adoptive father would be standing just beyond the threshold. She hated to see the disappointment clouding his gaze when he realized it was only her. She wondered if Sephiroth truly understood how much he meant to Denzel.

Denzel's eyes fell away from her when he realized that their visitor wasn't whom he hoped it would be. Aeris didn't let that get to her. He cared in his own way, but she simply wasn't the man who had saved him from the monsters and pulled him from being forced to survive in the streets. It was a bond she couldn't replace.

"How are you feeling?" Aeris asked, plastering a light smile on her face as she stepped into the room.

"Tired," Denzel said weakly, shifting slightly under the covers. His eyelids fluttered but he didn't immediately drop back into sleep. "Maybe hungry."

Hunger was always a good sign. It meant he hadn't yet succumbed to the more worse symptoms of the disease. It meant he still had time.

"Anything in particular?" she asked, forcing herself to keep her voice pleasant. She needed to be strong for them, no matter how hard it was.

He shook his head, curling under the covers and burying himself deeper into the thick comforter. "Just food," came the muffled response.

Marlene frowned slightly, just a twitch of her lips before she twisted to look up at Aeris, the flower girl having laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "How about macaroni and cheese?"

"Simple enough." Aeris brushed her palm over Marlene's hair, smoothing it down lovingly. "I'll go make dinner. You keep an eye on Denzel, okay?"

The little girl nodded, her eyes falling back on the bed and the boy she considered her brother. It broke Aeris' heart to see her that upset. But she didn't have any answers or words to comfort her. It made her feel so useless.

Biting back a sigh, Aeris turned and left the room, planning to head back downstairs. However, she didn't get two steps towards the stairs before she heard Midori give a cry of protest. She altered her course and headed into the room on the left. She didn't have to force the smile on her face when she saw her daughter looking up at her from where she clung to the side of the cradle, reaching with one hand.

"Hey sweetheart," the widow murmured, reaching in to pull Midori into her arms. "Why so noisy?"

Midori gurgled happily and reached out, grasping onto a strand of Aeris' hair and tugging gently. One eye, the same color as Cloud's, and the other, the same shade as her own, stared back at her. Midori was also pale as her father, with hair like the sun. Aeris couldn't help but wonder if it would darken with age.

Sometimes her daughter looked so much like her father that it hurt.

Shifting Midori's weight to her hip, Aeris turned and took toddler with her downstairs. Her daughter was such an attention hog. If she wasn't in sight of her mother, then she would make enough of a fuss that someone would come eventually. Aeris had gotten used to the weight of Midori at her side. She didn't mind it too much. It kept her from feeling too lonely.

The stairs creaked as she descended but before she could even turn into the kitchen, the sound of a ringing phone distracted her. Midori gurgled, waving a fist in the direction of the device. With a sigh, Aeris shifted her path and reached for the phone sitting on a stand in the hallway.

"Hello?"

There was a slight crackle of static before Shera's voice clearly came through. "Hey Aeris, how is it going?" she asked, sounding inexplicably energetic considering she had a toddler the same age as Midori and was already pregnant with her second child.

Aeris smiled tiredly, though the engineer couldn't see it. "It's going," she answered. "Is everything all right? Nothing's wrong with Dominic is there?"

"Oh no," Shera assured her. "Nothing like that. I just know that you've been a little stressed lately and thought you might like a night off."

"A night off?" the flower girl repeated in question, bouncing Midori a little on her hip. The little girl giggled and cooed, clutching tighter to her mother's hair.

Shera hummed into the phone. "Want to bring the kids over for dinner? I'm making Macaroni and Cheese for them and something a bit tastier for us adults."

A sigh of relief escaped Aeris before she could stop it. "How did you know?" she countered, glad that the daunting task of cooking followed with cleaning was not to be hers for at least one night. Elmyra and Barret would be back in a couple of days but until then, she was on her own. "You are a life saver."

"Nothing as grand as that," Shera responded in her light tone. "Come on over. We can make Rude watch the kids while we sit back and relax." Aeris could just imagine the other woman winking at her conspiratorially. And the others thought that she was the mischievous one.

She smiled. "Thanks, Shera. Let me get Marlene and Denzel dressed and we'll be over in a minute. See you then."

"Bye!"

The phone went dead in her hands. Shaking her head, Aeris replaced it on the receiver and shifted Midori's weight. "Ready to visit Aunt Shera?" she asked her daughter, pressing a kiss to the toddler's forehead. She received a giggle in response. Half the time, Aeris swore that that the little girl understood more than they thought.

Her heart eased by a child's smile, Aeris turned and headed right back up the stairs. "Marlene. Denzel," she called as she stepped back into the room. "Get up and put on some clothes. We're heading next door for dinner."

Two pairs of eyes turned towards her, Denzel nodding tiredly. "Okay," Marlene chirped.

Inwardly, Aeris felt weary as she left the two children and moved to change as well, into something more appropriate. She missed Cloud, she commented to herself. But she hadn't the time to dwell on that now. There were children to feed and Geostigma to worry about.

She didn't have time to be lonely.

* * *

It was too quiet, unnaturally quiet, Vincent noticed. He remembered all too well the silence of the forest and its counterparts the first time they visited in what seemed like so long ago. But this was a different sort. Almost as if anything that might have lived there had vanished in the wake of an impending storm. Even the wind had gone. 

Vincent was concerned, and with great reason.

He had gone to the Northern Crater first, because that was usually where all the trouble started. But had found nothing. The glowing pool of life stream was lying there innocuously, not even bubbling. It was slightly chilly from the strong northern winds, and his keen sight had caught a few blood drops scattered here and there but they could have belonged to anything. An injured animal most likely. There was not a single sign of disturbance to explain the unsettling feelings and the pressing siren of Jenova in the back of his skull.

He had learned to block her now, adept considering all his practice with Galian Beast and the others before the Chaos war. Not to mention her words didn't work on him. Nothing she could promise him was worth it. He had everything he needed and his vengeance was long complete. She could keep crooning in mind ear as much as she wanted, but it would fall on deaf ears.

Frowning at his lack of discovery, he moved his explorations to Bone Village and beyond, questioning the inhabitants to see if they had noticed anything out of the ordinary. They hadn't, not that he was surprised. They rarely noticed anything beyond their continuous and useless digging. So he had headed to the Forest of the Ancients, Aeris' former burial ground and the lost city beneath.

Amongst the trees that looked as if they were carved from ice itself, though he knew that wasn't the case, he again found nothing. But that was more telling than before because where there had always been the steady and quiet cacophony of life, there was now dead silence. The wind barely stirred the stiff branches above him, and the unnaturalness of it all made his spine cringe.

Vincent pulled his cloak tighter against the chill, reassured himself of the Cerberus at his side which had been a gift from Cid, and headed deeper into the forest, planning to stop by the pool where Aeris had once been laid to rest. They had taken to calling it the Reflections Pool, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

His feet crunched across the ground since he was making no efforts to move quietly. He half hoped something would attack him just to prove that everything wasn't dead in the forest. A chill air had set in, cold and still. Unnerving.

The former Turk made it to the pool not but a few minutes later, a smile finding its way to his lips at the picturesque view the scene always presented. A large towering structure curving towards the sky, crystal-clear waters at its base. He could almost see to the far bottom, though it stretched for feet below him. But there was nothing there to indicate the reason for the unsettledness of his senses.

It was odd, though. Gazing down into the water, overcome by a sense of nostalgia, he could have sworn blue eyes were looking back at him. Not in an eerie sense but more of a... protective sense, he supposed. Or perhaps he was imagining things or simply paranoid, it wouldn't be the first time.

There was nothing to explain a reason for the disquiet however. It was another dead end. A bit annoyed, Vincent moved to walk around the pool, heading towards the entrance of the spiral building. He would see if the pathway had opened to the beneath or not and go from there. Perhaps he would find some clues in the crystal city.

Before he moved two steps, a sound made its way to his ears. He froze on instinct and listened again. There. Behind him. Voices. They were too far for him to distinguish words but they were definitely voices, and laughter as well. His eyes narrowed into grey slits of interest.

Wrapping his cloak further around him to tone down on the swish of fabric and make himself look smaller, Vincent crept in the direction of the voices. This time, he had made sure to keep his steps silent, Turk silent as he had been trained more than forty years ago. He eased his way through the trees, on high alert so that he wouldn't be caught guard, and drew closer to the source of the voices.

It wasn't long before he found them and his jaw nearly dropped in surprise. He looked around for somewhere to hide and observe quietly, finally deciding to leap up into one of the larger trees and hide among the thick and empty branches. From there, it was easy to see into the clearing completely ringed by trees and bushes.

He counted five people, only two of whom he recognized. Both Zack and Elena were there looking very worse for wear with only the woman clinging to consciousness. Zack was out for the count, his head hanging between shoulders strung up very uncomfortably. But he wasn't dead, that much Vincent could see from the ragged rise and fall of his chest.

Standing over them were three men who could have been Sephiroth's brothers. Or at least, Vincent thought they were all men. The one in the middle looked as if he could be a woman with all that long hair and curves. Every single one of them was covered in black leather of varying designs and their silver hair was a perfect compliment to their outfit. From the distance, he couldn't make out the color of their eyes but he had the feeling that if he could, he would find them mako green.

What the hell was going on? And why were Zack and Elena there, bloody and covered in wounds?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, glancing over it. Full service and battery. Vincent planned on calling Reeve as soon as possible and letting him know what was going on. The President probably didn't know his employees were out here getting their asses kicked by Sephiroth look-a-likes.

A cry of pain attracted his attention and he looked back down. Elena was coughing as she spat out blood but somehow managed a glare of anger at the three men, one of whom was crouching down to look her in the eye. This one seemed younger than the rest, at his side a strange sword that Vincent had never seen before. He couldn't tell what the other two wielded but they looked to be two of the same, another weapon he couldn't identify.

"Tell us where she is," the younger of the three demanded, his voice deceptively light though it was tinged with anger.

Elena spat in his face. Vincent felt a surge of pride. That was the pride of the Turks right there. No amount of torture could ever make them reveal anything. He might have hated it at one time, being a Turk, but the lure of being feared, of being better than anything you might come across had always been something that pulled him right back in.

"Leave it alone, brother. She's not going to speak," said the long-haired one in a bored tone. He flicked hair over his shoulders and turned away, heading towards a pile of weapons that Vincent belatedly recognized as belonging to Zack and Elena.

He kicked aside Zack's sword, revealing a small leather pack likely belonging to the former SOLDIER and started rifling through it. "There's nothing here, either. Not even a materia or two. They are useless."

"Not entirely," laughed the largest of the three with a hairstyle that made Vincent cringe. "We could play with them some more."

The ex-Turk had the feeling that his definition of play was probably what got Zack and Elena in their current predicament.

"Che," the younger male said, rising to his feet with a disgusted sniff. "They weren't even worth a few hours of entertainment. But it wasn't entirely useless." He held up his fingers, something pinched between two of them. They looked like cards but from a distance, Vincent couldn't figure out what.

The largest of the men nudged Zack with his boot, the dark-haired man not making a single sound though Elena growled angrily. "Leave him alone," she rasped, managing a glare despite the blood dripping down her face and the one eye puffing up. "You've tortured him enough."

Zack's tormentor laughed at her.

Vincent felt just a little sick on his stomach. There wasn't anything he could do at the moment. He had the feeling that one shot wouldn't take these bastards out and if they were even half as strong as Sephiroth, he couldn't take on all three at once. He had plans to rescue Zack and Elena as soon as possible, but he needed to come up with something better than leaping in, guns blazing.

Though he hated to do so, he turned and crept away, slithering silently down the tree and slinking into the forest away from the scene. His hand was on his phone the whole time, already scrolling through the numbers for Reeve's that Cid had plugged in for him a long time ago. Once he felt he was a safe distance away that those boys couldn't hear him, he doubted they were even aware of anything other than their little torture session at the moment, he pushed the button for the call to go through.

It only rang twice before Reeve picked it up. "Tuesti here."

"Reeve," Vincent began quietly, his eyes on constant alert. "I've found something that I think you should know about. You wouldn't happen to be missing any employees?"

There was the sound of startlement from the other end as Reeve likely knocked over his coffee cup onto the floor. "Zack and Elena?" he responded hurriedly. "Where are you, Vincent?"

The ex-Turk sighed. "Around the Reflections Pool. I don't know what the hell's going on but they are in the hands of three men who look a lot like Sephiroth."

"Damn," Reeve cursed, sounding very worn. He exhaled sharply. "Then Sion wasn't mistaken. This does not bode well. What about Zack and Elena?"

"Alive," Vincent responded curtly. "For the moment anyways. It looks like they've been tortured for information but they haven't given anything away. I can't say for how much longer though."

There was the sound of papers shuffling. "They were after Jenova."

Grey eyes widened. "What do you mean? Jenova's gone."

"Not entirely," Reeve corrected, his tone very weary. "There is still a piece of her alive. And it's enough, it seems."

Vincent felt a headache beginning to pulse at his temples. He rubbed his forehead and surreptitiously glanced around, ears straining for any sign of having been discovered before continuing. "Remnants of Hojo's experiments most likely then. Have you looked in any of the remaining documents?"

"We've tried. But Hojo wasn't exactly a coherent or sane man. His records are incomplete and a lot of it was destroyed in Midgar. I have both Sion and Misaki working on the ones at Junon but still, we've found nothing."

Hojo was screwing them over from the grave. It figured that bastard would find a way to not be forgotten. If it wasn't the monsters that were still breeding endlessly, spewing out all kinds of horrific combinations, then it was remnants of human-Jenova research come back to haunt them. Vincent couldn't help but wonder what ills these three boys had suffered at Hojo's hands, if it were anything like what Sephiroth had been forced to endure.

"Vincent?"

He didn't even realize he had fallen silent.

The ex-Turk gritted his teeth on a wave of anger and sighed again. "Keep looking," he finally responded, one hand already moving to check his materia supply. "I'll keep a watch on them from here and at my first chance, I'll rescue Zack and Elena. That's all I can do at the present moment. Don't send anyone else in. This requires stealth."

"Understood." There was a pause as Reeve considered something before he added, "What do you think of them, Vincent? Are they sane or...?"

"Jenova-influenced?" Vincent finished for him, recognizing the unvoiced question. "I don't know at this point. I will call you again when I find out more. Reeve, be careful."

Once off the phone, he had plans to return to his perch and continue his surveillance. He would have his chance eventually. He was certain these men weren't planning on remaining in the forest, torturing their captives for long. He only wished he knew what their plans were or where they were headed next.

Reeve made a sound of agreement through the phone. "You, too," he responded before Vincent clicked off his cell phone and then promptly shoved it into silence mode. The last thing he needed was for someone to call him and give away his position.

Back in Junon, Reeve replaced the phone on its cradle and groaned, rubbing his aching head with two fingers. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He was relieved that Zack and Elena were alive but the news of the three men who resembled Sephiroth was not good. His hope had been thin at best, that Sion was mistaken, but now it had completely shattered.

He had the awful feeling that everything had only just begun.

Amber eyes flickered to the container sitting on the edge of his desk, looking deceptively innocuous considering he knew what it contained. The last remnants of Jenova. The very thing that the three men were looking for. He had been treating it like a controlled substance. No one was allowed to so much as see it without his approval.

He knew that the possibility for finding a cure for the Geostigma was better now that they had a piece of Jenova. He was only allowing certain of his scientists that he trusted, such as Shalua Rui, to take tiny samples for study. But no experiments. He refused to allow it. Reeve didn't believe that he had employed anyone with Hojo like tendencies but he wasn't going to take the chance.

Reeve frowned and sat back in his chair wondering what he was supposed to do now. He contemplated calling Tseng but the man was busy in Wutai. And Archer was inexplicably missing, as he had been recently. Reeve hadn't bothered questioning his close friend about it because whatever he was doing was making him happy, or had been at least. That air of broodiness Archer had been attempting had all but disappeared, until recently anyways.

He didn't know what put that smile on Archer's face. He suspected that the other man had finally met someone but since Archer hadn't gone around bragging or anything similar, Reeve had assumed he wanted to keep his new love a secret. There was no harm in that. He thought that maybe something must have gone sour since Archer was disappearing more and more lately and he was slowly starting to return to sadness. An aura of pinched worry was taking over his eyes.

In any case, Reeve knew that he couldn't keep the current situation under wraps for long. He didn't know when or how those look-a-like's would make their move. He needed to be prepared for anything.

Which meant he had to call Sephiroth. He wondered if the man's recent disappearances were linked to Jenova's return. Zack had no idea what was going on either, nor did Tseng. No one knew. Reeve wasn't worried that Sephiroth was turning on them, but he wished that the former General would come to them for help. They were all his friends but Reeve wasn't certain that the other man realized that.

Reeve reached for the phone and dialed it quickly, holding it up to his ear and praying Sephiroth actually answered it. After about ten rings, he received the standard voicemail message and promptly hung up, choosing not to leave one. This wasn't the type of thing he wanted to explain in a simple voicemail. It was best if Sephiroth heard it from Reeve himself.

With a sigh, Reeve returned the phone to the hook and contemplated his next move.

* * *

He felt the phone buzzing in his pocket, but as usual, Sephiroth ignored the device in favor of concentrating on his current fight. The monster was particularly dangerous, and he didn't want any unnecessary injuries. It was another one of Hojo's creations, a beast that resembled the demi-deity Doomtrain that he had fought during the Chaos War. Fortunately, it didn't have the ability to copy itself but it was capable of producing an acid-like poison which it enjoyed spitting out at him. 

His coat had already suffered a loss from when it had first attacked, catching him off guard.

The beast roared and Sephiroth leapt back, deftly avoiding another spit of acid. It sizzled the grass at his feet, charring it black. Twisting to avoid the spiny tail swinging his direction, Sephiroth blocked the attack with his sword, a gift from Tseng on his recent birthday. The metal screeched against the bone of the spine as Sephiroth added more strength and calmly sliced through it.

With a growl of anger, the monster retracted its bleeding appendage and crouched to pounce. Sephiroth waited calmly, sword lowered as he waited for it to attack. That was one thing about Hojo's creations. They were indeed stronger, but also degrees stupider. It was pathetically easy to lure them into range.

The monster bared its fangs, poison dripping to the grassy earth, and promptly pounced, long claws digging into the hard-packed soil. Sephiroth stood his ground, green eyes impassive. It took only a quick flick of his wrist to decapitate the beast, the body falling to the ground in front of him and the head flying off to the side in the opposite direction. One down, only hundreds others out there, hiding somewhere. It was a never-ending battle at times.

With a sigh, Sephiroth wiped the blood off on the grass and sheathed his sword, ignoring the dark black mist that rose as the monster dissolved into nothing, as if it had never been there at all. He stepped quickly across the plains outside of the destroyed town of Midgar and headed for his bike, which he had hidden in a dip of the field.

His hand dove into his pocket, pulling out the slim phone that was never out of reach, and rarely answered. Four missed calls and two messages. No surprise there. He scrolled quickly through the calls. Zack. Aeris. Tseng. Reeve. Again, that wasn't any different than usual.

Climbing aboard Odin, affectionately named for his former anima whom he hadn't seen or spoke to since the Chaos War, he dialed the number for his voice mail service and stowed his sword, the Murasame, in its compartment. The first message played.

"Yo, Seph. Where've ya been?"

In seconds, he knew it was Zack. The message continued.

"Look, I know you aren't gonna come home until you feel like it. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be on a mission for Reeve and I don't know how long it will take. If you do come home, don't stay here. Go bunk with Tseng or something, you know what I mean. Catch you later." It ended but not before Zack laughed in his usual way.

Sephiroth shook his head. He didn't think his best friend would ever change. Despite the humor, though, Zack sounded worried. For him. It only increased the guilt that settled heavily on his heart. But he couldn't just return like that. It wasn't that simple.

The phone beeped before proceeding with the next, and the moment the voice poured out of the speaker, Sephiroth's heart picked up a beat completely on its own accord.

"Sephiroth," Tseng started, sounding somewhat hesitant. "I wanted to apologize for what I said last time. You are right. I did not mean to be so pushy and I will refrain from doing so in the future... if you'll still have me." There was a pause before he continued, carefully choosing his words. "I've waited six years for this, I'm certain another ten or twenty would not kill me. Just... think about it?"

The message ended with a click and Sephiroth pushed the button, ending the call and returning it to his pocket. He contemplated Tseng's words, the incident the Wutaiian had been referring to fresh on his mind. He had known that starting a relationship wouldn't be easy, but he hadn't expected it to be that difficult either.

_Tseng's lips were on his neck, softly licking the pale skin over a mark that was already beginning to redden. Sephiroth gasped, his fingers tightening in their grip on the other man's shoulder as trills of pleasure sped through his body. He could feel the smooth slide of Tseng's skin over his, their bodies moving together in an age-old rhythm upon the bed. _

_The room was bathed in a dim light from the bedside lamp, casting a warm ocher glow on their flesh. Sephiroth barely paid that any attention, however, his interest completely gathered by the lips on his skin and the hands caressing his body. After more than a year of dating, he and Tseng were finally attempting intimacy. _

_Sephiroth was doing his utmost best to keep the memories, the nightmares at bay, but they were knocking at the inside of his skull, trying to rise to the surface with their vile poison. He didn't want to think about the past but he felt so vulnerable, lying on his back with another man between his legs, their naked cocks brushing one against the other. _

_The Turk's touches were gentle, caressing, far different than the ones he unfortunately remembered but he couldn't seem to tell his mind that. It wanted to equate them to the nightmares, to the cold fingers that filled him with nausea and self-disgust. _

_Tseng's mouth kissed up his neck, returning to Sephiroth's lips and he greedily returned the kiss, entangling their tongues together. One of the Wutaiian's hands cupped his hip, sliding along the curve of his ass to gently grasp his thigh and Tseng positioned himself. Sephiroth felt the head of the man's penis nudge at his entrance._

_He wanted it and had wanted it for the past year and it had only been that ever present fear that had kept them playing it careful. _

_But not anymore, not this time. _

_As if waiting for Sephiroth's permission, Tseng nipped at the former General's mouth and then gradually began to push forward, pressing into Sephiroth. Pale fingers tightened and a great sense of loathing rose up so swiftly that Sephiroth couldn't clamp it down fast enough for it to escape Tseng's senses. He only hoped that in the lust of the moment, the other man had missed it. _

_**So beautiful... This power that is mine. **__Words that he didn't want to hear skittered across the back of his memories. He gave a minute shudder of revulsion at the reminder. _

_Tseng abruptly stopped, his lips leaving Sephiroth's mouth as he drew back and looked at the former General. "What was that?" he asked, voice thick with desire and concern. _

_The other man's body trembled on the cusp of both disgust and need, entirely on edge. He looked up, furrowing his brow and pretending confusion. "What are you talking about?"_

_Tseng shook his head and put a little more space between them. "You're not ready for this," he responded after a moment as if listening to a small voice in the back of his head. _

_Embarrassed, Sephiroth chose to get angry, narrowing his eyes. "Excuse me?" he demanded in annoyance. _

_A hand cupped the former General's cheek as Tseng searched his face, hovering over him. "What's wrong?" he asked, trying not to be argumentative. "And don't say nothing because I know better than that." _

"_If you know so much then why bother asking?" Sephiroth muttered, growing defensive. He turned his head away, not wanting the sympathy._

_Silver eyes searched his as Tseng took a deep breath. "Sephiroth..." _

"_Don't," Sephiroth inserted, cutting him off quickly. "Just don't." He moved to sit up, dislodging the other man's hand from his cheek. _

"_All I'm asking is that you talk to me," Tseng pressed, backing off a little to give Sephiroth some space since he was suddenly emitting "get back" and fearful vibes in all directions. Tseng's senses were nearly swimming in all the feedback he was getting. _

"_And I want you to stop asking," the former General very nearly snapped, feeling incredibly vulnerable given that he was both nude and losing his arousal. Not to mention the fact that Tseng was still perched between his legs. He wanted to grab a blanket and toss it over himself but didn't want to show his unease either. _

_Tseng pursed his lips, trying not to allow himself to get angry. "I ask because I care Sephiroth." _

"_And you?" _

_The Wutaiian blinked, a bit confused. "What do you mean?" he questioned, frowning. _

"_What about your secrets?" the other man demanded, going on the offensive if only to hide the lingering memories pressing in the back of his brain. Tseng was silent in his surprise, prompting Sephiroth to continue. "You don't want to tell them anymore than I do." _

_Somewhat stunned, Tseng shook his head. "No, it's..." Words failed him however, and he trailed off, searching for the right thing to say. _

_Without waiting for a response, Sephiroth shifted on the bed, having it in his mind to move or get away or something. Before he even managed a foot, Tseng grabbed him and pinned him back down to the mattress. The Turk hovered over him, worry darkening his expression. That and something else. An emotion that Sephiroth couldn't identify. _

"_You didn't even give me a chance to say anything," Tseng hissed despite himself, silver eyes gleaming. "I cannot just blurt out my life."_

_The former General glared but Tseng had long stopped being afraid of that stare. He pursed his lips. "You never even asked," he gritted out. _

_Sephiroth remained defensive, however, turning his head to the side and staring with determination at the wall. Tseng could feel the emotions emanating off of him in waves, and in the back of Sephiroth's mind, a dark mass of something seethed and pulsed. It was something that Tseng had never prodded at, sensing that the truth behind it would be something he would be hard pressed to recover from. _

"_I was only five when I was exiled from my homeland," Tseng finally began slowly as he lowered his gaze, clearly recalling a somber memory. He swallowed thickly, fingers tightening briefly on Sephiroth's arm before gently releasing him. "And by the time I was eleven, I was an orphan. ShinRa picked me up not long after. I guess I am a lot like Reno in that regards." He chuckled mirthlessly, his tone heavy with grief. _

_It was a grief that Sephiroth didn't know how to heal, a memory from Tseng's past that he didn't know how to make lighter. _

_The Wutaiian opened his mouth to speak again but Sephiroth cut him. "Tseng," he started, his glare fading. "I did not mean to force you into saying it. Especially since I hadn't asked." _

_He didn't want to hear anymore. Not if he didn't know what to say in return. He didn't know how to offer sympathy. He simply didn't know. _

_Tseng sighed and sat back, giving Sephiroth the room he needed to sit up and throw his legs on the side of the bed. It was effective enough to turn his back on Tseng. "I want to help," the Turk said softly. "But I can't if I don't know what's wrong."_

_A moment of silence filled the room, heavy and palpable. Sephiroth rose to his feet, reaching for his clothes. "There's nothing to help," he murmured, pulling on his pants and zipping them carefully. _

"_That is a lie and you know it."_

_He had nothing to say to that. _

_Tseng began to grow impatient. "Look. I don't ask you the things I should because I keep thinking you'll eventually tell me." _

"_The things you should?" Sephiroth repeated curiously despite himself as he pulled on his shirt and searched around for his belt, unable to remember where it had been tossed._

_The Turk lowered his tone. "Yes. I do not ask you why sometimes you look as if you'd rather vomit than kiss me. I don't ask why you fear even getting close. And despite the fact that I can, I have __**never**__ looked for myself because I want you to trust me enough to tell me."_

_At his words, Sephiroth stiffened slightly, hating that Tseng had noticed these things about him. He thought he had been hiding it well. _

_Tseng sighed. "But I suppose after only a year, a little trust is too much to ask for."_

"_Perhaps it is," Sephiroth answered, pulling open the door to Tseng's bedroom and promptly stepping beyond it. He knew he was being stupid but he didn't know how else to respond. _

_Minutes later, the last sound to fill the silent apartment was the front door closing behind Sephiroth. _

He had not spoken to Tseng since that night and Tseng hadn't come after him when he left. It was only one more reason he didn't deserve to have someone care for him like that.

With a sigh, Sephiroth pulled out his goggles and placed them over his eyes, a gift from Aeris at the same time Zack had given him the bike. He reached for the ignition and his bike rumbled to life. He struck the kickstand with a boot and gunned the engine, taking off across the field with a perfect roar. He had already selected his destination and turned Odin into a sharp circle to head off on the right track.

He had known he was being a coward when it came to Tseng. But there were things he simply couldn't tell his lover. There were truths he didn't want anyone to know, some that he even refrained from telling Zack. He just couldn't bring himself to let Tseng know all the reasons he was afraid for the man to touch him.

Like the fact that Tseng resembled his molesting bastard of a father in certain lights. Or what exactly Hojo had done to him, all the things he had suffered at that man's hands. It made him feel unclean and sordid. Nor did he want Tseng's pity for it either. He just wanted to forget it, but his mind wouldn't let him. He couldn't seem to get away from the past.

There were far too many things on his mind on the moment, worries that kept him far from home as often as possible. As well as guilts.

There were times when he worried that the only reason he was attracted to Tseng was because he resembled Hojo. What if he was sick like that? Only wanting something because it was what he was used to. Tseng wasn't a perfect match for Hojo but with his dark hair and greyish eyes, at a glance he was all too much of a reminder.

He wondered if there was a part of them that was just as sick as his father, just as twisted. It was why he didn't allow himself to be alone with Denzel. Hojo's treatment of him was all that he ever knew. What if it had infected him in some way, making him want unnatural things? He refused to take that chance.

Sephiroth knew that Denzel didn't understand why his adoptive father wasn't around. But he wasn't going to make any mistakes. He didn't want to hurt anyone, even if it meant being alone for the rest of his life. Denzel would be better off without him. It was likely Tseng would, too. He wasn't going to tell the Turk any of the past that he had finally remembered.

If he had his way, no one would ever find out any of it. He didn't want to face the pity or the comfort. He didn't want anyone to look at him differently. He would rather lose Tseng by being a bastard then have the man leave him because of a past he couldn't forget. It was easier to face that way.

Sephiroth eased Odin to a halt, the engine rumbling as he kicked out the stand and shut it down for a moment, making his final stop for the day. He was at a high bluff that overlooked the ruins of Midgar and it was the place he came to often. From there, he could see all the way to the shore of the ocean, and even the edges of Kalm, but most importantly, he a perfect view of a city he had failed to protect. And a place where the man who had once loved him died.

Aeris' husband, Midori's father, Zack's other best friend... Cloud had trusted him and Sephiroth had paid him for that trust by failing him. Miserably. Sephiroth returned to this place to remind himself of that fact. Cloud's memorial was outside of Fort Condor, but Sephiroth had created one for him here as well. It was the least he could do since he wasn't strong enough to save anything.

All he was worth in the final battle was drowning in his memories. It made him ill just to remember his ineptitude.

A sudden buzzing in his pocket distracted him. He climbed off the bike and stood before the monument, nothing more than the Buster sword thrust into the hard-packed soil. It was starting to rust since it had been left out in the weather, but it was still suitable. Sephiroth glanced at the display, finding that the name 'Vincent Valentine' was being displayed.

He waited for it to quit ringing as he always did when someone called him. When the phone fell silent and no message was left, he shrugged and tucked it back into his pocket. It must not have been that important.

Sephiroth sighed and returned his gaze to the fallen city of Midgar. Some buildings on the far edge had survived through the explosion, but they were slowly sinking inwards, forever falling into the crater caused by the destruction of several demi-deities. All of the inhabitants of the once-glorious city had fled, either towards Kalm or to rebuild in a new city named Edge between Kalm and Midgar.

Some were even going so far as to call the abandoned Midgar the "cursed city". Considering all that happened, he didn't blame them one bit.

Sephiroth's fingers ghosted over the hilt of the Buster sword before he turned on his heels and headed back towards his bike. Climbing aboard the cycle, he turned in the vague direction of Fort Condor where he planned to stop briefly before continuing to Junon. He supposed it was about time he made an appearance at his home.

It was the least he owed them.

* * *

a/n: Thanks for reading! I hope this is up to Shattered Dreams' legacy and that I'm keeping them in character. I'd love to know! Any theories? 


	5. Worth the Wait

**a/n: Reminder! All interludes are scenes that took place between Shattered Dreams and Shattered Children.**

**Warning: Some limesh/lemony bits are in here. Don't read it if you don't want to. **

**Shattered Children: Interlude One**

**Worth the Wait **

**(Tseng/Sephiroth)**

He never thought he would ever see the great general of ShinRa's army, or former to be more precise, dressed casually. But Tseng was definitely glad for the chance. It gave the man a softer look, something a little less capable of bloodshed and instilling fear in the masses. And while he appreciated the tight, black leather, there was something to be said for Sephiroth's current attire.

Zack must have helped him pick it out because Tseng had the feeling that Sephiroth was ignorant when it came to things of this nature. Casual, intimate encounters outside the necessary interaction of war and the planning of it were more of what Sephiroth was used to handling. He sincerely doubted that the man had ever been on a date in his entire life.

Nevertheless, the powder blue dress shirt illuminated Sephiroth's eyes, untucked from slim-fitting black slacks, showing off the length of his legs. Tseng had been ogling his fill the entire night, through the entire dinner and subsequent walk on the outskirts of Junon which was comparable to a stroll down the docks. He wasn't the only one.

Everywhere the two of them went they garnered appreciative stares, from men and women alike. No one had been brave enough to approach them but the effect was all the same. Sephiroth was perfectly oblivious to the stares. Tseng assumed it was because there was no malice in it so his senses didn't even register them as important. Besides, the anxiety that the former General was suffering probably overrode any paranoia he might have been suffering from.

No one else would have noticed it, but Tseng wasn't just anyone. He could feel it, the insistent buzz on the back of his senses speaking plainly what Sephiroth wasn't. The taller male was nervous about their date, about their relationship. And on the edges was a lingering fear but Tseng hadn't yet deciphered the reason behind it, only assuming that it had something to do with that great darkness he didn't dare probe.

He didn't want to admit that a part of him was afraid of that, unconsciously skivvying away from that pulsing mass of something painful in the back of Sephiroth's mind. He didn't want to touch it, didn't want to even so much as look at that seething mass of poison. The name Jenova might as well have been stamped right on it. Jenova and Hojo both. It was enough to make the Turk a little sweaty on the palms.

"Tseng?"

He blinked out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry," he replied, a bit sheepish, wondering how long Sephiroth had been trying to get his attention. "Did you ask me something?"

Green eyes watched him before Sephiroth turned his gaze back towards the view. "Have you ever been here before?"

They had paused at one of the observation points, turning their gazes to the rippling ocean and the night sky stretching endlessly above it. A cold breeze picked up, bringing with it the scent of salt and ruffling their clothes. Neither of them minded, however, Tseng actually enjoying the feel of relaxation it brought. The Chaos War almost seemed like a thing of the past, were it not for the rude reminders behind him on the exterior of Junon, gouges and blast marks from demi-god attacks.

Tseng furrowed his brow. "To this particular location?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and stepping closer to the rail.

Below him, he could see the lights of the rest of the city, orange and yellow flickering glows of residences and buildings. He could make out a few people walking around here and there but most were heading home, unwilling to be buffeted by the strong winds. A storm was likely approaching.

The former General shook his head. "No. The beach."

He gestured below them, towards the faint pale line of sands that signified the beginnings of the shore. It was barely noticeable given that most of it was hidden by structure, but there was a gaping hole in the metal that allowed a certain measure of view. Yet another scar that could be attributed to a mad demi-deity.

"Not this one in particular but I've been to Costa del Sol a time or two for an assignment," he answered, a faint frown pulling at his lips. "Haven't you?" He had the feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

There was a moment of silence before Sephiroth sidestepped the question. "I've never really liked Junon," he redirected slowly. "As much as I hated Midgar, I preferred being there to here."

Tseng placed his hands on the rail, curling his fingers around the cold metal. "Why?"

"It never seemed... alive to me," Sephiroth replied after a moment, a strange note to his voice. "Everything here is made of metal. The city's even carved into a cliff. Worse, it was like being imprisoned within the military. There wasn't a single resident who wasn't connected in some way to ShinRa."

The former General had a point. Two of ShinRa's three training facilities were in Junon as well as most of their weapons stores and the majority of the troops. Before Midgar was constructed, ShinRa's primary headquarters was Junon. To someone like Sephiroth, born and bred in ShinRa, Junon must have seemed like a metal hell.

"If it's any consolation, I never liked it much either," Tseng responded, knowing that Sephiroth willingly sharing anything about his past was a rarity. He thought it only proper to return that tidbit with a piece of his own. "When we were exiled, we ended up here. It was my first harsh reminder that we were no longer in Wutai."

A moment's pause.

"Was it difficult?" Sephiroth asked quietly, his gaze never leaving the far rise and fall of black waves on a dark ocean.

There was a clench in Tseng's heart as images unwarranted attacked him. The smell of the incense. The sound of his aunt's laugh. The polished wood of the dojo where he had taken his first tentative steps as a swordsman, even at the tiny age of three, still toddling on unsteady legs. The faces carved into a mountain, gods watching over them.

It was the hardest thing Tseng had ever been forced to do. Because to him, leaving meant more than just leaving his home behind. It signified the loss of his father and mother. It was the reminder that the reason for it all was the ability that he had finally learned to control. An ability he still sometimes loathed.

"Yes," Tseng finally responded, over a lump in his throat. "Yes, it was."

Sephiroth didn't say in anything in return. He didn't have to. He understood the scars all too well, not visible but ten times more painful. He might not have understood the loss of home since he didn't know the feeling, but there were other agonies that struck just as deeply.

It was what bound them, what strengthened their relationship. Both of them foolish, both of them staggering through the unknown, still bleeding inside from wounds that hadn't had a chance to heal.

Maybe this was their cure, or at least a chance at one.

Tseng shifted, uncoiling his hands from the railing and turning to face Sephiroth. The wind was causing his dyed hair to flutter around his face. It made Tseng miss the long, silver locks though he understood the necessity. Even now, people still hadn't forgotten the name of the Great General. There was no telling who still held a grudge.

"Do you want to head back to my apartment?" he asked, inwardly holding his breath as he waited for an answer. "The wind's picking up."

There was a moment when he expected a 'no'. The tension in the air grew thick and choking. Then green eyes turned towards him and Sephiroth nodded.

"Yes, I would."

Tseng's heart flip-flopped in excitement at the somewhat hesitant smile he was given.

* * *

They took off their shoes at the front door of Tseng's apartment, leaving them shoved near the hall table. There was an expectant sense to the air that Tseng could feel rattling through his body, making him swallow thickly.

"Would you like some coffee?" Tseng asked, hoping to dispel some of the tension as Sephiroth followed him into the kitchen. His own heart was skipping a beat in anticipation, remembering all too clearly the taste of the other man's lips.

As Tseng headed towards his cabinets, rifling through the one above the stove where he kept the filters and coffee, Sephiroth hovered near the door. "Yes," he responded, thinking that something familiar would calm him down. Logically, there was nothing to be afraid of, but it was an irrational anxiety that rode on his thoughts.

He watched the Turk prepare the coffee pot, carefully measured and practiced movements. Sephiroth couldn't deny that he had been looking forward to this night, a large part of him fully interested in seeing where this relationship was going to take him. And it was nice to see Tseng in something other than his battle garb, surrounded by an atmosphere that wasn't hovering on a precipice of danger.

Yet, strangely enough, that was where the fear came in. Battle and strategy, throwing himself into defeating the enemy, pitting his skill against a bloodthirsty foe... Sephiroth was well-trained in all of that. But _peace_ and_tranquility_, taking things a day at a time and stopping to enjoy the simple pleasures... that he couldn't grasp, that he couldn't wrap his mind around.

Sephiroth hadn't been taught the nice things in life, he hadn't been told that his existence was anything worth enjoying living. He had been crafted a killing machine, the best soldier that ShinRa had to offer. He had eaten because he needed nutrients, had studied the worst that mankind had to offer so he could think like the animal man _was_. He had trained and learned and bled and slept, not because he was tired, but because occasionally, even his body required rest.

He didn't know what it meant to be lazy, or to read a book simply because. He had only been in the stages of learning thanks to Zack when Hojo had sent them on that trainwreck that was the mission to Nibelheim. Maybe that was why the crazed scientist had done it. Seeing that someone dared make a human out of his experiment, he knew he had to put an end to it, remind Sephiroth of just what he was. Perhaps that was why, Sephiroth couldn't even begin to fathom Hojo.

It was scary enough that he could even guess. Because that meant he knew more about the way Hojo thought than he wanted to. That he _understood_the scientist and it terrified him. The fear that he was exactly what Hojo made him to be was never far from his thoughts. And that he could never escape from his instincts, his genes, his training. What if one day, he discovered he couldn't live with peace and sought out destruction, just to ease the frantic trembling inside of him?

He wondered if peace were even possible for someone like him. If happiness were only just a star above him, forever out of reach for someone with feet firmly entrenched in the concrete of his past.

Tseng was trying to offer him happiness and Sephiroth was absolutely terrified. He had the irrational urge to run out the door, wishing he had the courage to look back.

The former General swallowed thickly, his anxiety only increasing, even as the wonderful smell of roasted coffee beans, percolating hotly, wafted to his nose. Tseng turned to face him and a strange look crossed over the Turk's face, the same expression he always had when he was sensing something he didn't particular enjoy. It was the only time Tseng couldn't completely hide his reactions.

"You can relax," the Wutaiian said quietly, lifting one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, a small bit having escaped from his low ponytail. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want to do."

Sephiroth allowed a small smile. "It's that obvious?"

He gestured briefly to his head, shrugging slightly. "Only to someone like me."

A faint flush spread across Sephiroth's cheeks before he could stop it, knowing that it was probably some breach of courtesy or he was making some mistake. "I apologize," he said, his hovering near the doorway probably giving off the wrong impression. "I don't know anything about--"

"It's not like there's some plan you can follow," Tseng interrupted, cutting off what was likely to be a ramble and Sephiroth never rambled. "Not that I'm any better."

There was a moment of silence as the coffee pot gurgled behind them, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with the Masamune. A mix of anxiety and need, expectations piled up on top of expectations. It was hot and stifling, breathing down their necks and making every movement something to be crafted, something to be analyzed. Was it just casual, or was it an invitation? The both of them were nervous out of their minds that they would ruin something beyond fixing.

Sephiroth shifted. "I'm thinking too much about this, aren't I?" he asked, his voice the first to break the quiet.

"I think we both are," Tseng agreed, stepping away from the counter and approaching the former General. "There's too much... expectation I suppose is the best word for it." He could feel it, every shift in Sephiroth's emotions, stronger than he would have ever anticipated.

Green eyes softened. "Expectation," he repeated. "Is it really that simple?"

"It's supposed to be," Tseng responded, coming to a stop right before Sephiroth. Their eyes met as he tentatively reached up, curling his fingers behind the other man's head and tugging him down so that their lips could meet in a kiss.

It was just a bare brush of their mouths, lips skimming one against the other, but it was enough to send a wash of heat to Tseng's groin. Surprise filtered through Tseng's senses, but not fear. It was encouraging.

Tseng drew away, looking up at Sephiroth and opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could even speak, the former general closed the distance between their lips again. They kissed, more firmly this time, with increasing confidence. Tseng settled his free hand on Sephiroth's hip, squeezing gently as he brought their bodies together, inwardly cursing their height difference.

It was nearly intoxicating, kissing Sephiroth, and he deepened the kiss, gingerly exploring the other man's mouth with his tongue. Sephiroth made a sound in his throat, a nonverbal noise of encouragement as he slumped backwards, his back hitting the door frame. Tseng followed the slouch, pressing against Sephiroth as he continued to merge their mouths.

Their tongues slid sloppily together, the kiss becoming more and more heated. He could feel his cock lengthen in his slacks but even more inspiring was the answering hardness pressed against his hip. Tseng carded his fingers through Sephiroth's hair encouragingly as the former general tentatively lifted his hands, settling them on the Turk's shoulders but not to push him away as had been Tseng's initial belief.

Pale fingers curled against his shoulder as if Sephiroth needed something to hold on to, beginning to respond to the kiss in a more sure fashion, engaging Tseng's tongue in a gentle duel. It was enough to make Tseng groan inwardly, something about this half-shy and uncertain Sephiroth that made his blood turn to fire.

Sensing nothing but interest on Sephiroth's part, the anxiety having bled away to pleasure, Tseng's hand left the taller man's hip and explored upwards, skating across the soft fabric of Sephiroth's shirt. With a parting nip to kiss-swollen lips, the Turk dragged his mouth to the hollow of the former general's jaw, exploring the tender skin with his lips and tongue.

Sephiroth inhaled sharply before inclining his head to the side in silent acquiescence, melting beneath Tseng's skilled touch. With great care, nimble fingers found the first button of Sephiroth's shirt and blindly slid it through the small slit. When no protest came, he undid another, baring more of the former General's chest.

Anticipation curled heavily in Tseng's flip-flopping stomach as his heart beat a faster rhythm. His lips traveled lower, across Sephiroth's collarbone and the planes of his chest as he gradually unbuttoned the dress shirt and pushed it aside. His fingers splayed over the man's taut abdomen and Sephiroth moaned lowly, an incredibly erotic response.

It only made him want more.

Tseng dragged his lips back upwards, sealing them over Sephiroth's mouth. His hips took up their own rhythm, rocking forward against Sephiroth's thigh as his cock throbbed in his pants. And all he could feel from the former General was pleasure and content, no more of that anxious fear.

It was a mix of enticement and exhilaration. He plunged his tongue into Sephiroth's mouth with greater force, memorizing that exotic mix of flavor before dragging his lips back down, tonguing Sephiroth's throat. His hand jerked on the taller man's hip, bringing their groins flush together enough that he could feel the throbbing of Sephiroth's groin.

The former general gasped before he could clamp down on it, fingers flexing on Tseng's shoulder. "Tseng," he groaned, his voice full of need and desire and request though he didn't know for what.

"Tell me to stop at anytime," Tseng murmured against the other man's skin, desperately hoping that his soon-to-be lover wasn't going to murmur 'no' right now.

There was a moment of silence filled with heavy breathing before a pale hand lifted and settled on the back of Tseng's neck, an encouraging motion. "Don't," Sephiroth said thickly, voice raspy and shy but still certain. "Don't stop."

Tseng untangled his fingers from Sephiroth's hair, dragging that hand down until it rested on the waistband of black slacks. "The bedroom is more comfortable than the kitchen," he suggested hopefully, fingers dancing against pale skin in a silent request for permission.

The other man surged into his touch, body shuddering somewhat as he slouched against the door frame. "Where?"

He took Sephiroth's lobe into his mouth, suckling gently before releasing it with a wet smack. "I'll show you," he responded as Sephiroth groaned, eyelids shuddering.

Sephiroth made a noise in his throat, something of acquiescence and Tseng carefully navigated them down the hall, glad that his apartment was small with few obstacles. His lips located Sephiroth's once again, tongue plunging hungrily within. His soon-to-be lover moaned into the kiss and eagerly responded. One hand tugged on Sephiroth's belt, paying no attention to the fact that he, himself, was still fully clothed.

It became a blur of motion then. Clumsy, staggering steps towards his bedroom, slowly peeling away clothes as if they were merely obstacles. Sephiroth put up no protest, his lips seeking out Tseng's as they stumbled through the darkness, blindly navigating their way to the Turk's bed and tumbling down on the soft surface as if it were their last refuge.

The Wutaiian couldn't stop touching Sephiroth, running his hands over ivory-pale skin and watching the man come undone beneath him. His lips and tongue explored, tasting anything he could reach. The hollow of his throat. The middle of his belly right above a thin trail of silverish hair.

Every sound he dragged from Sephiroth's throat, every arch of the man's body, was a victory in Tseng's mind. The former General responded to every brush of his fingers, every purposefully laid kiss with such honesty that Tseng was left in wonder. It was as if the man had never been touched like that before in his life, something simple and soft, meant only for pleasure.

That realization struck him like a lightning bolt, shooting straight down his spine and into his groin where it blossomed into fire. It made him hard, the hardest he had ever been in his entire life, including all of those nameless, meaningless encounters. It brought proof to the rumor that Sephiroth had no experience... that the man was a virgin after all.

_'It was entirely unfair of him'_, Tseng thought to himself, his lips finding a peaked nipple and drawing it into his mouth. Sephiroth arched, his hips seeking upwards, arousal bumping against Tseng's still clothed thigh. He was the only one of the two who still had some semblance of clothing, other than Sephiroth's silk boxers.

It was unfair of Sephiroth to be that gracious, to trust Tseng with that much of himself. The Turk didn't know if he was good enough to be what the former General needed, but by Orthrus, he was going to try.

His fingers traveled downwards, hooking in the waistband of Sephiroth's boxers and tugging them. A hand clamped down on his arm and he looked up to find Sephiroth giving him a questioning gaze, mako green eyes clouded with desire as a hint of uncertainty flashed through his senses.

"Just let me," Tseng murmured, dipping his head down to place a kiss on the man's belly.

There was a moment of indecision before the fingers uncurled from his arm, falling back down to the comforter. Taking it as permission, Tseng tugged on the man's boxers, Sephiroth lifting his hips to help. Casually tossing them to the side, he brushed his fingers over Sephiroth's length, enjoying the strangled sound that caught itself in the man's throat.

His palm enclosed around the silken heat as he slowly stroked Sephiroth, placing calming kisses on the man's belly, muscles jumping beneath his lips. His own need was growing steadily stronger, his cock throbbing anxiously in his pants but he held off.

And then Sephiroth breathed his name, hips rocking into Tseng's strokes. "Why are you still dressed?" Sephiroth asked, sounding half-uncertain but also determined. It was enough to break a man.

So very unfair.

The Turk groaned, his free hand fumbling for his trousers and the zipper, suddenly feeling the clumsiest he had ever been in his entire life. He momentarily released his hold on Sephiroth's arousal, despite the man's murmur of protest and practically threw off his clothes and boxers in one fell swoop, throwing them somewhere to the ground behind him.

He didn't give Sephiroth any time to look or admire before he was swooping down on the man, mouth hungrily seeking Sephiroth's. Their shafts bumped, gliding slickly together thanks to precum and Tseng groaned again, deepening the kiss. He felt as if his skin was on fire, threading his fingers through Sephiroth's hair and directing the kiss. Arms wrapped around him, dragging him closer and setting every vein within him ablaze.

He would be lucky if he didn't spill himself too early, he realized with a bit of surprise. He was thirty-fucking-years old and yet his libido was crashing over him like a teenager in the backseat of some vehicle.

Tseng shoved his hand between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around Sephiroth's arousal and stroking him, rubbing a thumb over the leaking head. The former General groaned, a sound that might have been the Turk's name, hips arching into the touch. Their bodies moved and slid together, the room filled with heavy groans and breaths dragged into lungs.

Tentatively, so damned carefully, a second hand crept down to join Tseng's, their fingers wrapped mutually around their cocks. Tseng broke away from Sephiroth's lips with a gasp, hungrily drawing in a breath as he buried his face in the crook of a pale neck. His own rhythm was ragged and jerky and he knew he was rapidly approaching the edge.

A gasp and a moan and Sephiroth stiffened, his hips straining upwards as he spilled over their combined hands, coating Tseng's fingers in his seed. The Turk followed him over seconds later, his mind completely blissed out on pleasure. He dragged his mouth back to Sephiroth's as he rode out the last tremors, their tongues lazily and sloppily sliding together.

Fingers slowly unwound as pulse rates gradually slowed, Sephiroth's hand a welcome weight on the Turk's back. Then there were languid kisses and a welcome, comfortable silence, sweat trickling off their bodies as semen cooled into sticky globs on their stomachs and fingers.

Feeling an unexpected wave of tiredness attack him, Tseng stirred and shifted his weight to the side, planning on sliding from the bed.

Sephiroth stirred. "Tseng?"

"I'll be right back," he murmured, pressing a parting kiss to the former General's shoulder before sliding off the bed.

He padded across the room, slipping into the hallway. He quickly made his way to the kitchen, flipping off the coffeepot with his clean hand and then flipped off the light. He navigated through the dark to the bathroom, appropriating a wet cloth and cleaning his own fingers before returning to the bedroom.

Sephiroth hadn't moved and was watching the Turk with something dangerously close to relaxation on his face. It was an expression Tseng didn't think he'd ever seen before.

Tseng held up the washcloth as an offering.

"Thanks," the former General responded, taking the cloth and cleaning off the evidence of their encounter.

"You can just toss it to the floor."

The Wutaiian hunted around for his boxers, finding them against the far wall and pulled them on, hoping to stave off future temptation. He snagged Sephiroth's boxers and handed them over to the other man as he climbed back into the bed, feeling incredibly sated and yet, wanting more all the same.

"I know it's early," Tseng began, a quick glance at the clock telling him it wasn't even midnight yet.

Sephiroth waved him off, slipping into his boxers and tossing the washcloth to the ground as instructed. "It's fine," he assured, settling back down on the covers. "I have to be up early anyways."

It was going to be strange, sleeping with someone for the first time. In all his encounters, Tseng had always crept from the bed immediately afterwards. There was never an intention of something lasting. But now, all he could think about was falling asleep next to Sephiroth's warmth.

It was so strange.

And so very unfair.

"Early?" Tseng repeated questioningly, moving to lie beside the other man.

He felt it then, the subtle stiffening of Sephiroth's body. It was enough that he didn't reach for Sephiroth but remained on his side, staring at the slats of light on his ceiling from the street lamp outside. He was hyper aware of the body next to him, however, his every sense straining to touch and kiss, to embrace what he had wanted for so long.

Sephiroth shifted on the bed, the flash of uncertain anxiety fading with every moment that passed. "Yes. Something's been picking off the cattle outside of Junon. Reeve asked me to take care of it."

He dimly remembered the President mentioning something about those occurrences. At the time he had labeled them in his mind as of minor importance and them promptly forgot.

"By yourself?" he asked, wondering why he should be concerned. This was_Sephiroth_ after all. Nearly the most indestructible man on the planet.

"Yes."

It was subtle but he felt it, Sephiroth slowly moving closer, each gained inch filled with uncertainty and courage.

Taking a deep breath, Tseng decided to take a risk. He lifted his arm and draped it over Sephiroth's mid-section, a mostly harmless touch. A moment of shock and then Sephiroth relaxed.

Tseng allowed himself a smile in the dark that no one could see.

"Goodnight."

It was enough, this first time around he decided. He would have more opportunities later.

All he could think, as Sephiroth's breath gradually evened into sleep and somewhere outside, a light rain began to fall, was that Sephiroth was definitely, most assuredly, worth the wait.

* * *

a/n: I apologize for the long wait. I've ignored this fic in favor of others but now I'm back on track. I'd appreciate any feedback you might have for me! It's always nice to know when people are looking for an update. It gives me incentive to put them out faster. 


	6. The Ache of Denial

**a/n: Self-beta job. Any screw-ups are mine and mine alone. Free free to point them out to me! **

**Shattered Children: Chapter Three**

**The Ache of Denial**

He hadn't slept in twenty-four hours but Vincent wasn't ready to give in to the weariness just yet. He suspected that the three brothers, whose names he had finally discovered, were going to leave eventually. He wanted to be ready at a moment's notice to slip in and rescue Zack and Elena. Both were in dire need of medical attention.

Vincent shifted cautiously on his tree, careful not to shake the branches as he tried to find a more comfortable position. He watched as the boy, whom he had finally learned was named Kadaj, kicked the largest in the side, waking him up from a noisy, snoring sleep. Loz, the eldest, snorted and awoke with a huge yawn.

"What is it, nii-chan?" he asked, rising to his feet and stretching out the kinks from his bones and muscles. Even this far away, it was easy for Vincent to hear their voices and discern what they were saying.

"We're leaving," Kadaj answered, already moving to their piles of collected items and rifling through it for something that Vincent couldn't identify from the distance.

The middle brother, Yazoo, spoke up, "To find our mother, Loz," he explained. He was always the one to clarify for the eldest, Vincent had come to learn. He suspected that Loz was a bit behind in intelligence compared to the other two. Though he more than made up for it with his speed and strength.

"What about these guys?" Loz asked, nudging the unconscious Zack and Elena with the toe of his boot. Neither stirred.

Kadaj sniffed disdainfully. "Leave them," he stated, pulling what looked like a sheath from the pile and clasping it to his back. "They aren't moving anytime soon."

The elder laughed. "Yeah, they were no fun after all." He cracked his knuckles, punching one fist into his palm.

"If they die, then we will have no problems," Yazoo added with a nonchalant shrug. "We have what we need."

Their flippancy annoyed Vincent. It reminded him all too much of Hojo and made him sick on his stomach. He twitched in his hiding spot but resolved not to move, at least for the moment. The three might have looked as if they were children, but he was certain that strength lay within them. A strength he couldn't overcome entirely on his own.

They made a few more tasteless comments, gathering up their weapons and readying themselves before finally taking off on a trio of cycles that Vincent recognized as being ShinRa brand. He could only believe that they had stolen them and were now planning on taking a boat from Bone Village to the Midgarian mainland. In any case, it seemed that Kadaj, though the youngest, was the leader. He filed that information for further use later.

He waited for the length of an entire hour, on the off chance that they might return for a forgotten item or something similar. But when they did not, Vincent finally stirred from his hiding spot. He carefully climbed out of the tree and hopped to the ground without making a sound before creeping into the camp.

It was completely silent, only the wind in the trees accompanying him. He made his way to Zack and Elena first, where they were tied up on the ground and crouched to check their vitals. Zack didn't stir as Vincent pressed fingers to his throat, but his heartbeat was strong and sure. Blood was caked on his forehead and he had bruises all over his skin, some dark green and purple, others still bright red. One arm was twisted brutally, the shoulder at an angle that wasn't healthy. Yet, he would live.

Vincent turned his attentions to Elena, noting that her breathing was at least normal. She stirred as he laid the back of his hand against her forehead, which was hot and streaked with sweat. Brown eyes opened briefly, blearily trying to focus on him.

"Valen... tine..." she croaked, body twitching slightly before she abandoned all attempts at consciousness and slipped back into oblivion once more. It was probably for the best. She was probably in an incredible amount of pain.

He needed to get the both of them out of there before the brothers returned.

Vincent dug out his phone and promptly hit speed dial, calling Cid in an instant. As if he had been holding his own cell in his hand, the pilot answered before the first ring even finished.

"Vince! What the hell's goin' on?"

Understandable since it had been a few days since he had last contacted the pilot.

"I need you up here, chief," Vincent responded. "I've got to transport two injured out and quickly."

Cid seemed to understand the urgency. "I better get an explanation later," he replied in a warning tone. "I'm near the ruins of Icicle. I should be there in twenty."

"Hurry," the former Turk encouraged as Zack shuddered, likely trapped in some terrible nightmare. "They are badly wounded."

"Got it." Cid fumbled with the phone and Vincent could tell that he was briefly covering the receiver, though that didn't matter since his hollering was clear enough anyways. "All right you bastards, get this baby off the ground!" Cid returned to the phone. "See you soon, Vince."

And then the phone went dead.

The gunman shook his head. Cid would never change. He slipped his cell back into his pocket and turned his attention back to Zack and Elena. He used his pocket knife to cut the ropes binding their wrists and ankles, grimacing at the angry red lines that were seeping blood beneath the twine. He tried to coax the both of them to drink a potion but mostly ended up spilling it over their faces. He poured the bubbling, cool liquid over the wounds he could see and tried to make them comfortable.

His first aid training wasn't the best but it was better than nothing. Vincent attempted a few of the Cures he had in stock but they simply weren't strong enough. Many of the wounds and bruising were deeper than his limited capabilities. The rest would have to wait until he could get them to Junon.

With nothing more he could do for the two, he rose to his feet and set about to snooping around the campsite. The tents were devoid of anything important save rumpled bed rolls. He investigated the pile of items that Kadaj had been looking through earlier. Vincent found basic camping supplies and strangely enough, a huge chest buried beneath the random odds and ends. Children, these three definitely were.

Yet, judging from what he could find, they hadn't been staying here in the forest for a long time. In fact, it looked to be more of a recent home. He wondered where they had lived before. Were they remnants of Hojo's experiments recently escaped? Or had they been around for a lot longer, hiding and waiting for the right opportunity?

Vincent opened the huge chest after breaking the pathetic lock and looked inside. It was mostly empty except for a few materia rolling around the bottom. Light pink and yellow... support materia basically. Nothing too terrible or dangerous. But the chest definitely looked as if it were supposed to hold a lot more. But as far as he could recall, he didn't remember them taking anything like materia with them.

He closed the lid with a thoughtful frown. What were those three after?

Above him, the sound of many rotors attracted his attention. He looked up as a great gust of wind blew his hair around his face, rattling the skeletal branches of the trees. The Valenwind came into view, hovering over his general area. Thanks to his PHS, it was possible for Cid to easily zero in on his location.

Vincent rose to his feet, watching as the bottom panel of the airship slid aside and the hatch opened. A platform began to lower with a barely noticeable whirr and he could make out Cid and the crew braced on it. It was a good thing that Cid had designed the platform because the Valenwind wouldn't have been able to land in such a small area.

The bottom of the metal hit the ground of the clearing. "Stretchers get the injured," Cid ordered, blue eyes immediately surveying the scene. He was already striding off the platform, heading towards the patiently waiting ex-Turk.

"Yes, Captain!" the ten or so crew members shouted in unison, snapping to attention and quickly getting to work. Cid had trained them well.

Relieved that the two would finally receive care, Vincent turned his attention towards his approaching lover. "That was faster than expected," he remarked.

"As if my baby would be anything but," Cid responded with a snort. He peered at his lover with a critical eye, looking for any injuries that he should be worried about.

Vincent rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Cid."

"Just makin' sure."

A hand tangled in the front of Vincent's cloak as he was pulled towards the pilot, their lips meeting in a brusque kiss. Despite his discomfort with public displays, Vincent allowed it, knowing that his lover worried at length any time Vincent was gone from his sight for too long. And considering his behavior, the nightmares and such, before he left, Cid had right to be concerned.

"Miss me?" Vincent asked, somewhat jokingly.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Cid looked around, raking a hand through his hair and dislodging his ever present goggles. Vincent had often teased him that he would have a permanent mark on his forehead because of them. "What's going on here?"

The ex-Turk frowned, watching as his lover's crew gently situated Zack and Elena into the stretchers to prepare them for transport back onto the ship. "It's hard to explain but it seems I wasn't entirely wrong about Jenova. She's back with three new puppets to carry out her orders."

The pilot pulled his palm over his face in disbelief. "Weren't we done with this shit with Sephiroth?" he muttered rhetorically into his hand. "As if one hadn't been bad enough."

"I have to stay here, Cid," Vincent stated in all seriousness, knowing that the fact would upset his lover but having no choice in the matter. "I don't know what they are going to do next but I need to keep an eye on them. I'm certain that they will return here eventually."

Blue eyes the color of the sky peered at him through calloused fingers, Cid's expression unreadable before the pilot growled and threw up his hands in defeat. "It's no use arguing," he grumbled to himself, shoving a finger in Vincent's face. "But I don't want to hear nothin' about you dying on me. You're not fuckin' allowed."

Vincent allowed a small smile to pull at his lips. "Don't worry. I have no intentions of doing so just yet."

"Good." Cid half-turned to glance behind him, noting that his crew was ready to depart and was only waiting on his command. "I know you're a great and powerful Turk but... be careful."

"That goes without saying. I'll call you when I find out more."

"Tch." Cid turned away from him, back a bit more stiff than usual. He was worried and didn't want to show it too outwardly. "Make sure you do."

He strode away from his lover, long, lingering goodbyes not their style. "All right! Let's get this thing back up! And carefully!"

"Yes, Captain!"

Vincent allowed himself another small smile as he took a step backwards and watched the platform rise with its burdens atop it. No, heartfelt glances and anxious waves of goodbye weren't really their status quo. He refrained from doing so and turned away, pulling out his phone once more. He had one more call yet to make.

He waited until the noise of the Valenwind had vanished before dialing Reeve. The President answered on the tail end of the second ring, sounding half-desperate and slightly breathless.

"Vincent?"

"I'm sending Zack and Elena to you now," the ex-Turk explained without worrying about exchanging idle pleasantries.

He cast a well-trained eye over the campsite around him, looking for obvious signs of his presence other than Zack and Elena being missing. He didn't want the three to realize that he was that nearby and watching them. Other than the lock being broken on the chest, there was nothing plainly evident.

"They are alive?" Reeve questioned, his voice filled with relief.

The gunman nodded though the other man couldn't see it. "For the most part, but I can't say for how long. Any word on Sephiroth?"

Reeve sighed, the strain in his voice clear as day. "Unfortunately, no. He is still ignoring his phone. What have you learned?" Vincent half-imagined that he was rubbing his forehead, trying to quell the oncoming headache.

"Not much to be honest. They are heading to the mainland but I have a feeling they will return eventually. I will keep watch until then."

"I understand." There was a squeak, likely Reeve leaning back in his chair. "This is all becoming terribly complicated. You have no idea where they will be going?"

Vincent frowned, nudging something beneath his feet and turning it over. But there was nothing of importance there. "They mentioned something about going to look for their mother so my guess would be Junon. I don't know what they managed to learn from Zack and Elena, if anything at all."

"I see." There was a moment's pause as Reeve contemplated this new information. "It's enough that the two of them are safe. We'll just have to hope that the brothers turn up without harming anyone in the process."

The possibility of that was slim but Vincent didn't think he needed to tell Reeve that. "There is a chance that they may be coming after you," he suggested, the thought occurring to him. "If they are anything like Sephiroth, then they will carry great hatred for ShinRa. You are the closest thing to it right now. Be on your guard."

"And you as well. Don't take unnecessary risks. I don't think Cid will forgive me if something were to happen to you... _again_."

It shouldn't have been a joke but Vincent found it somewhat amusing nonetheless. Thinking of his lover, and what Cid had told him, Vincent knew that Reeve was right.

"I know. Goodbye, Reeve."

He snapped the phone shut, double-checked that it was still silent, and slid the device back into his pocket. He cast one more glance over the campsite, but there was no more information to be found. He turned and crept back into the darkness, returning to his perch.

He had nothing left to do but wait for them to make their move.

* * *

_Ring. Ring._

Oblivious to the silence of the room, and the fact that it was unoccupied, the phone continued to ring loudly, a request for someone to listen. The apartment, shared by Zack and Sephiroth, had been empty for the past couple of days, ever since Zack had left for the WRO headquarters. Of course, it hadn't seen its other tenant in three weeks either.

Dishes still sat stacked in the sink, waiting until someone got around to washing them and two bedrooms slowly collected dust. It was more of a place to keep their belongings than a real home since both men were frequently absent. But it was comfortable and it was solid, and it was there so they kept it anyways.

With a shrill beep, the answering machine suddenly bleeped on, cutting off the sound of the ringing as Zack's voice filled the house. "You've reached Sephiroth and Zack, or at least you tried to. Good luck there. Leave a message and we'll call you back. If this is Sephiroth, than you better get your scrawny ass home and stop making people worry. Peace!"

A low drone echoed in the room before Aeris' voice poured through the speaker. "Zack? It's Aeris. I can't seem to get through on your cell phone, you might want to get that checked out. I'm trying to get in touch with Sephiroth. It's Denzel. I'm worried about him. He's fighting but he's scared and frankly, I am, too. Please, call me back when you get this. Thanks, Zack."

There was a click and silence reigned once more. The tape in the answering machine beeped and stopped, expecting the next message. The machine was already blinking red, signaling that two messages were waiting to be heard.

Despite the fact that the actual residents weren't home, a slim, leather-covered finger reached out and pressed the rewind button, listening intently as the tape whirred to life.

"So," Yazoo stated with some interest, cocking his head to the side. "Our older brother is missing, it seems. He has been hearing Mother's call."

"Don't presume too much, Yazoo," another voice answered from the hall, having wandered casually around the home that didn't belong to him. Kadaj stepped into the darkened living room, briefly illuminated by the light from the window. "We knew it would be too easy to track him here."

The youngest brother frowned, flipping the card in his hand and peering intently at the words on the laminated surface. "That man would have protected it more if he thought our brother was in any real danger." The card caught the light and for a brief moment the name "Loire" and a flash of spiky black hair could be seen before it promptly disappeared back in Kadaj's pocket.

Suddenly, there was a crash and a clatter from the kitchen, followed by the sound of cursing. The two younger brothers turned their attention to the doorway where pots and pans suddenly went rolling by, making quite the racket. Kadaj groaned and covered his face with one hand. Loz wasn't ever going to be the most graceful.

"Whoops," Loz said, appearing in the doorway with a sheepish grin. He kicked at one of the fallen pots and it shot across the room, clanging loudly against a far wall before dropping back down to the floor. "He isn't here, nii-chan."

"How wonderfully astute of you," Yazoo commented dryly, rolling his eyes.

The eldest brother frowned, narrowing his eyes. "Shut up, 'Zoo. We can't all be as quick as you."

Yazoo shrugged with an elegant flip of his hair. "In any case, I wonder where he can be found. Perhaps with that man again?"

"No," Kadaj inserted with a shake of his head. "He hides from one, he hides from all."

"Do ya think he knows where mother is?" Loz asked, strolling over to the hallway where several pictures hung. He frowned at one, flicking it with his finger and causing it to crash to the ground, the glass splintering over cheesy smiling faces.

Kadaj didn't answer, however. His brow furrowed as he crossed his arms, thinking deeply. In the back of his mind, he could feel the subtle whispers, the grasping touches of Jenova. She wanted him to find Sephiroth, to bring her favored son back to her. It pissed him off, but he wouldn't think of ignoring her. Besides, even if he had wanted to, he couldn't.

"Nii-chan?"

The youngest brother blinked and lifted his gaze. "Head to Midgar," he told them, one hand digging in his pocket for his phone and pulling it out.

"Why?" Yazoo questioned.

"It isn't hard for me to guess our brother's thoughts," Kadaj answered distractedly, one finger cycling through the numbers on the answering machine until he located the one he needed. "I am certain he is in that area. It is, after all, where our other brother died."

Loz snorted. "Midgar?" he said, shaking his head. "That place is nothing more than ruins. There's nothing there."

"And that's the reason why brother goes there," Yazoo explained thoughtfully, suddenly understanding Kadaj's rationale. "To remember."

Kadaj nodded, hitting the buttons to dial a number he knew by heart before holding it to his ear. "Exactly." As the other end rang, he gestured his brothers to follow him out of the apartment, not bothering to lock it behind them. He wanted them to know someone had been there.

He watched as Yazoo and Loz climbed on their bikes. "I'll join you as soon as my business is finished here. Don't kill brother just yet," he ordered as they started up the engines with a set of twin roars. "Mother still plans on using him."

Yazoo watched Kadaj carefully as he said this, something unnameable behind his gaze. "And what are we to her, I wonder?" he muttered to himself as his elder brother laughed beside him, obviously thinking of Sephiroth's fate and prepared to enjoy the opportunity to play. "Come Loz."

With a final smirk, Loz followed after Yazoo, the two of them speeding down the street to head out of Junon. Kadaj wasn't concerned for them. He would be following in a moment. But first, he had a few things to take care of.

On his phone, a voice mail finally picked up. The answer was mercifully brief, and something in Kadaj's expression softened as he listened to the familiar voice.

"It's me," he began, knowing he would be immediately recognized. "Meet me at the usual spot in an hour. I'll be waiting."

Short and sweet as always. He ended the call and quickly dialed another number, one he had learned from the machine inside. Kadaj leaned against his bike as he waited for the call to connect, a strange excitement building inside as he thought of the meeting that was to come. But also, a sadness was growing as well. Because he knew what he had to do.

He never should have allowed himself this happiness in the first place.

On the other end, the phone was answered after the first ring. "Tuesti here."

"I know you have Mother," Kadaj began without introduction, diving swiftly into the topic at hand. He crossed one arm over his belly, trying for nonchalant. "Where is she?"

There was a swift intake of breath on the other end. "You!"

"Yes, me. Your little pets told me everything. They weren't that strong after all." He paused for effect, eyes narrowing in anger. "Where is she?"

"Dead, or haven't you heard?" the WRO's figure head responded, almost cockily.

Kadaj's fingers tightened around his phone and he heard the slim plastic give a creak in protest. "You're leading me on," he declared through clenched teeth. "And I hate liars."

"It is only you who believes I am lying," Reeve countered, though the waver in his voice belied his bravado.

In the back of his mind, mother was growing irritated with the audacity of this mind. It made Kadaj's own blood began to boil. "That is because I think you do have mother there." The youngest brother paused. "In fact, I _know_," he hissed.

"We have _nothing_," Reeve insisted emphatically. Yet Kadaj could tell that the President was growing worried, afraid even. "Now, where are Zack and Elena? What have you done to them?"

He waved dismissively as he straddled his bike, prepared to ride off and join his brothers. "Why should I answer your questions when you can't answer mine?" Kadaj countered nonchalantly, pretending to study his fingers.

There was a low curse on the other end as Reeve failed to disguise his anger. "What do you want from us?" the WRO figure head demanded in a low tone.

Kadaj smirked. "No need to be vulgar, Mr. President. I think that we can come to some sort of agreement, don't you?"

"I don't negotiate with terrorists."

The silver-haired man sniffed imperiously. "Pity," Kadaj drawled. "I'll be seeing you."

Before the other man could say anything further Kadaj promptly pressed the END CALL button, cutting him off. He immediately turned his phone off, just in case the President was capable of tracing the call as well. Shoving the cell into his pocket, Kadaj let loose a low, taunting chuckle.

Strangely enough, in the back of his mind, he could feel the trickle of Mother's amusement, her glee. She was more than ready for blood, for the destruction that was to come. And like a loyal servant, Kadaj was prepared to grant it to her.

In however many pieces she wanted.

* * *

The Midgar Zolom had never been a challenge to him. He remembered a time when ShinRa soldiers had quivered in fear at just the thought of the monster. Now, he could defeat one with just a single slash from his sword, or a cast of any one of the materia in his arsenal. It was pathetically easy.

Sephiroth didn't even bother to fight them anymore. He just sped across the murky waters of the swamp on Odin and shot through the cave connecting to the other half of the continent. With the speed of his bike, he could usually cross from Junon to Midgar in a span of two days, and even faster if the weather was clear.

A part of him looked forward to returning home, even if another part of him clenched in uneasiness, wondering what he would have to hide this time around. He knew he couldn't avoid seeing Tseng either. Even if he didn't know what he was going to say, he knew he had to somehow fix the tension that was building between them. Either that or end it, which he was loathe to do.

He shot out of the cave with a roar of the motor, a small crowd of birds fleeing at the mere sound of him. Not that he paid their actions any attention. Something buzzed in his pocket and he belatedly realized that it was his cell phone ringing again. They were being awfully persistent lately, despite knowing he never answered.

Sephiroth bit back on the throttle, slowing down just a tad as he dug a hand into his pocket, fumbling around for the vibrating PHS. But before he could even answer it or glance at the Caller ID, he heard the sound of motors that didn't belong to him. Which was strange considering that he knew there were few that dared travel nowadays thanks to the mutant monsters and such.

He flickered his gaze around, looking over his shoulder to see two cycles, smaller than his own, approaching on either side. From the distance, however, he couldn't make out the identity of the riders. And it didn't look as if they were just casual travelers either. His every sense went on alert as he pocketed his phone and revved the motor.

Odin responded quickly, eagerly shooting forward with a loud rumble that made its entire frame shudder. The wind from his speed caused his hair to whip around him, but it was a distraction he could handle. Sephiroth dared a look over his shoulder, spotting one of the two appearing to lift his arm.

It had to be a signal of some sort. Were there more foes hiding behind the rocks around him?

His questions were answered when seconds later, beasts seemed to spring from the ground, rising from a dark mist and coalescing into dangerous beings. They resembled skeletal wolves with spines all over their bodies and long, whipcord tails that could easily punch a hole through a man's body. No longer wanting to question, Sephiroth quickly activated the compartment for the Murasame and withdrew the long sword.

It was just in time to slash at a monster as it sprang at him, the beast dissolving back into fine black mist the moment his sword passed through it. They were strangely quiet creatures, neither panting nor growling as they attacked and their feet didn't make a sound on the rocky ground. Almost as if they were only specters or something similar. But he didn't have the opportunity to analyze. More were springing towards him.

Silver flashed through the air and three more beasts fell to his sword. His bike swerved slightly and he struggled to maintain control of it, losing some of his speed in the process. Another beast launched itself at him and he cursed under his breath. The damn things were pretty relentless, reminding him a bit of the battle against Doomtrain. He slashed through that one and it was then that he noticed his two pursuers had managed to catch up in the meantime.

"Where is mother?" A deep voice demanded over the roar of their motors and the whistle of the wind.

From his other side, the second male commented, "We've been looking for you, brother."

He felt something inside of him warm and grow cold all at the same time as he finally laid his gaze on the two travelers. His eyes widened in surprise. He had never seen another person in his entire life with hair the same shade as his. And their eyes... they were also a direct match for his. And why did they call him 'brother'? What the hell was going on in Gaia?

"M-mother?" he repeated, another sense of deja vu attacking him. Pain raked across his mind, a fierce and yet sibilant whisper, and Sephiroth winced, faltering slightly.

"You should be joining us," the one on his left stated, steering his bike closer. He tilted his head to the side in a somewhat seductive manner. "Help us to find her."

Sephiroth gritted his teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about," he growled over the noise of three motors, his heart beating a mad rhythm in his chest. Desperate for some type of grounding, his fingers tightened on the hilt of the Murasame.

The larger man, the one on his right, laughed and jerked his bike uncomfortably close. Sephiroth reacted quickly, veering Odin away from a potentially dangerous collision. The tires rolled over the stubby, rocky ground, bumping uncomfortably. Things weren't looking too good for him.

"You'll know soon enough!" the one on the right announced, lifting one of his hands and revealing that he held a weapon.

In one brief glance, the most that Sephiroth could discern was that it resembled a really short blade and a rifle at the same time. He ducked down purely on instinct, lifting up the Murasame just in time to block the shot aimed for his head. The bullet nicked the upper edge, careening away from him. If he had been just a millisecond later...

His opponent smirked and the other laughed. "Too slow!" the large one shouted, veering in close once more and aiming a fist at Sephiroth.

The shadows merged from the ground once more, becoming loping, skeletal beasts with a deadly hunger. Gritting his teeth, Sephiroth pushed Odin into a screeching whirl to avoid the attack of the nearest creature in the same moment as he lifted the Murasame, slashing out at one of the two men. The larger one swerved to avoid and Sephiroth quickly changed the angle of his attack, swiping upwards to cleave through a shadow monster.

A shot cracked the air.

Sephiroth jerked to the side but was too late. The bullet caught him across the side of his temple, sending pain racing through his skull. He could feel the warm blood dripping down his face, even as the tingle of mako began to work on the wound. He grimaced, trying to peer through the blood dripping into his eyes when sharp fire suddenly spread through his left arm.

He doubled over at the sudden agony, forcing Odin to screech to a halt as he began to lose control when his fingers spasmed, arm going numb. Sephiroth cursed under his breath, peering through a haze of pain to see the two speeding past him, their shadowy minions disappearing in a fine spray of black mist once more.

"We'll be waiting, brother," the smaller male called over his shoulder with a smirk before he revved his engine and the two disappeared into the distance, heading towards Junon.

Sephiroth growled low in his throat, annoyed that he would be beaten by what looked to be children before grimacing, more fire prickling at his skin. He hunched over his bike, his sword dropping to the ground as he clutched at his arm. He could handle pain, he reminded himself, he was used to pain. Hojo had made certain of that.

But this agony was altogether something different, as if his body was trying to consume itself. He knew what it was, of course. He would have to be blind and deaf not to. Geostigma, the same disease attacking the children had always sunk its claws into him. He could feel the sickness throbbing through him, stealing away his strength.

Worse than that was the voice on the edge of his mind. The familiar whispers that he had once thought he could no longer hear. But they were there again, entirely unwelcome yet he had no choice but to listen.

_My child. See the pain that this planet has caused you? Return to me. Return to me, my son. I will make you whole. _

_You are mine._

He felt them, the burning fires of Nibelheim, the screams of the innocent as his sword and fell in a bloody rain. He heard her laughter, her encouragement, relived his own anger and fear. Relived it all on the tail end of the pain as she whispered to him.

Sephiroth squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his jaw against those treacherous requests and tried to think of something, anything else really. Denzel's innocent smile. Zack's raucous laugh. Tseng's drowning kisses. The little things he clung to in moments of weakness when he was almost overwhelmed by the calls of Jenova.

More pain joined the fire in his arm, as if a silent refusal to allow him peace. He could feel the wound seeping and creeping across his skin, dirtying the bandage he had learned to keep wrapped around it. From the top of his arm to his elbow, across the backs of his shoulders, and still it longed to stretch further, trying to swallow him completely.

It truly was as if the Planet had chosen to punish them and him in particular. Which he couldn't blame it for. But the children, they didn't deserve to suffer. Not Denzel. All he wanted to do was live and smile... and be happy.

Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder if the Geostigma was his fault in some way.

It was several agonizing minutes later when the pain faded enough that he felt he could move from his coiled position and the pleadings of an alien woman disappeared from his mind. The former General gasped tiredly, unclenching his fingers and swiping at the sweat on his brow, coming away with blood as well. He purposefully let his mind go blank as he probed gingerly at the wound at his temple, but it had already closed completely, leaving nothing but streaks of blood.

Small favors.

Sephiroth sighed and leaned down carefully, grasping the Murasame and carefully wiping the road grit from the gleaming blade. Beneath him the Odin continued to rumble as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. He let his mind remain mercifully empty as he returned the Murasame to its usual compartment.

He took one, then two deep, steadying breaths and then allowed himself to think. The pain faded away to a few twinges as he dug out his phone, finally checking the missed call. It had been Aeris. The thought of speaking to her and Denzel at the moment however, was not appealing. Not when his body was still faintly trembling and he spun with questions.

He needed to know who those two were and what they meant by 'mother'. He needed to know why they called him brother and why looked so much like him. Sephiroth needed answers.

He called Reeve.

"Tuesti," Sephiroth stated crisply once the man picked up, sounding tired and worn down. "I need answers," he finished, using his best 'General' tone.

There was a moment of silence before a sigh of relief echoed through the receiver. "I'll do my best."

His arm ached but it was something he could easily ignore. Sephiroth lifted his gaze, eyes tracing the path the two men had taken towards Junon. "What is going on? Why are there two men who resemble me? And what did they mean by mother? I know you must have some clue."

"What?" Reeve exclaimed in astonishment. "They came after--"

The call cut off before the WRO President could even finish his statement.

Pursing his lips in irritation, he looked at his phone and noticed that the battery warning light was blinking at him. Dammit. He had known it was getting low but not that low. It seemed his answers would have to wait.

If those men looked like him and spoke of 'mother' then it was likely Hojo had something to do with it. He dreaded to think what else that damned scientist had concocted. He had no choice but to wait until those men showed up again. And then, he would get his answers.

Sephiroth's now useless phone returned to his pocket and he reached for the handlebars, revving his engine. A quick glance told him he had plenty of fuel to get to Fort Condor for one last side trip.

If the time for his final retribution was coming, then he was determined to be prepared.

For better or worse.

* * *

Archer was beginning to grow anxious. He dared a glance at his watch again, noting that only three minutes had passed since the last time he looked. Meaning it was now twenty minutes beyond the time they were supposed to meet. He craned his neck to look out into the street, but could see no sign of his date.

This would have be the third time he had been stood up. Concern was riding on the forefront of his mind. He had known that his lover was acting strangely lately, but had pushed it aside and blamed it on paranoia. Perhaps he should have been more suspicious?

He had more than thrilled to open his phone and find he had a message waiting in his voice mail left only a few minutes before. After throwing an excuse at Reeve, one he couldn't repeat now even if he tried, he had run out the door, anticipation beating loudly in his heart.

Archer didn't really have a good explanation for anything. If someone had asked him why or how, he didn't think he could put it into words. But what he felt he wouldn't deny. Nor would he give up. It was as if he had finally found that piece, the final bit to the greatest invention of his life he had been looking for.

All he knew was that when green eyes looked up at him, he didn't see anything else.

A sudden noise at the entrance to the alley gathered his attention. He jerked his eyes excitedly, a form stepping out of the crowds into the slight dimness between two buildings. There was a glint of something silver, a bare hint of movement, and then a warm body was in his arms, lips pressed to his. It always galled him that his younger lover was taller than him.

But for the moment, that was the last thing on his mind. He closed his arms around his lover and deepened the kiss, tongue dancing through familiar territory. All of the anxiety's and the worries felt as if they were bleeding out of him. Just knowing that Kadaj was safe was enough to ease his concern by a great deal.

"You look like hell, Kyle," Kadaj commented once the kiss had ended. He had taken to calling Archer by his last name as a joke and somehow, it had stuck like that. Not that Archer minded all too much.

"_Archer Kyle? That's kind of backwards isn't it? Compared to the usual I mean?" _

Amethyst eyes sparkled warmly at the brief memory. "Just a few crises. Nothing I can't handle." The palm of his hand brushed down his lover's back, feeling the warmth and suppleness of leather beneath his touch. "You, on the other hand, look great Touki."

"Don't I always?" Kadaj responded cheekily, closing the distance between them for another heart-stopping, consuming kiss.

It was all Archer could do not to lose himself in the moment, forcing himself to remember that they were in some back alley, away from prying eyes but still nowhere wonderful. Not to mention Kadaj had been missing for about two weeks now and had been acting strangely before that.

Their lips parted, enabling Archer to speak as he continued their earlier line of conversation. "Yes but the leather..." he trailed off, wondering when his lover had decided to change his usual attire. It was practically melded to the pale skin, displaying every curve of his body. "I want to peel it off."

Kadaj rolled his eyes. "You would have me naked all the time if you could," he accused, but there was a note of fondness to his tone rather than irritation.

"It's a possibility," Archer admitted, and before he could talk himself out of it, he avoided the questions for another moment more.

He tangled his fingers in silver strands and tilted Kadaj's head to kiss him once more, never able to get enough of the taste of his lover's lips. A mixture of innocence and sorrow, regret and anger, there was so much emotion to be found in everything that Kadaj was that sometimes Archer wondered if he were drowning in it. Maybe that was why he was so addicted.

Kadaj eagerly returned the kiss, pressing his slimmer body against Archer's with an air of unrequited need. Arms coiled tighter around the engineer's neck, tongues tangling together. Archer felt a sense of desperation to the embrace, a hungry sorrow in their kiss. It was as if Kadaj was desperately trying to hold back his emotions but at the same time unable to do so. Almost like he knew he was saying goodbye.

Those worries and questions cropped up again, taking away his enjoyment from the long desired reunion. He broke off the kiss, growing serious. "Where've you been, Touki?" he asked, looking into green eyes that always captivated him.

Kadaj cut his eyes to the side, unable to meet his gaze. "It's better if you don't know," he replied after a moment, tongue snaking out to moisten his lips.

"What do you mean?" Archer asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. "What's going on?" He didn't like the tone of voice that his lover was using, something resigned and defeated.

"There's some stuff going on," Kadaj began in a vague explanation. "Some things I have to take care of." He chewed on his lip and withdrew with a sense of reluctance, returning his gaze to Archer. "It's probably best if you forget about me, Kyle."

His heart began a strange rhythm in his chest. "What are you talking about?" Archer demanded, reaching to draw his lover back to him. He didn't like the look in Kadaj's eyes.

But the younger man took a step out of his reach. "Look, I can't tell you. I don't want you to get hurt so just pretend you never knew me." He paused, taking a deep breath. "And... get out of Junon."

"What do you mean, 'out of Junon'?"

Instead of explaining, Kadaj looked away from him, his eyes focusing on something that Archer's couldn't see. His face was clouded by fear and something else, something that Archer couldn't quite place. His senses prickled warningly.

"It's probably not safe here. Not anymore."

Confusion growing even further, Archer again reached for the silver-haired male. "I don't understand," he began, concerned by the skittish way Kadaj was acting. "Kadaj, I can't just--"

"You have to!" Kadaj argued, interrupting him in a sharp tone full of such command that even Archer was taken aback for a moment. "Forget you ever knew me. Forget everything!"

With those bewildering words, Kadaj slashed his hand through the air and turned, darting out of the alley where they had been concealing themselves.

Amethyst eyes widened and Archer had the sudden fear that this would be the last time he ever saw his lover alive if he didn't stop him now. He raced out of the alley after him, skidding to a halt when he saw the sheer mass of people passing by in the street.

"Kadaj!" he yelled, despite knowing it was futile. If Kadaj wasn't willing to stay, then he wasn't going to answer a call.

He frantically tried to spot unusual silver hair or dark leather in the crowd, but it was as if his lover had vanished into thin air. There was no sign of him, not even a hint of the direction he could have taken. Strangers passing by saw the wild look in Archer's eyes and shied away from him, otherwise, no one was paying him any attention.

He ground his teeth together, hands clenching into tight fists. What the hell was going on? Archer ground his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. What the hell was going on? And just when he was starting to grow close to the other male. What was that fear? That worry? And Junon? How wasn't it safe anymore? Did it have something to do with Jenova? Was Kadaj connected to all that after all?

He had known from the beginning that Sephiroth was the only person in the world with hair of that color. He didn't know why either. The first time he had seen Kadaj his first instinct had been one of curiosity and perhaps a bit of wariness. But after talking to the boy and getting to know him, he had been convinced there was nothing to be concerned about. Or was that only because he had already fallen for him? Had he let his own loneliness blind him?

He had asked Reeve and the others but as far as they knew, Sephiroth never had any brothers and the Jenova experiments ended with Sephiroth. Archer knew that he was probably taking a risk but he couldn't just say no. There was something in Kadaj's eyes, there had always been something in his eyes, that was begging to be believed.

The circular questions were killing him.

It was in that moment that his phone chose to ring, jangling noisily in his pocket from where he had forgotten to turn it silent. Cursing under his breath, Archer dug out the annoying contraption, not even bothering to look at the name on the face.

"Hello?" he answered a bit more harshly than he intended.

"Are you busy?" He recognized the voice in an instant. It was Reeve.

Archer looked around him, straining for one last glance of Kadaj. But it was futile. His lover was gone to who knows where for who knows what reason.

"Not anymore," the engineer responded, tone filled with defeat. He shoved his free hand into his pocket and turned his feet in the direction of the WRO headquarters.

"Good. I just received a few strange calls, including one from Sephiroth. He was trying to ask me something but his phone cut off. I need everyone back at the office. And right now, that's basically just you."

Archer sighed. "Is it those three again?" he asked. '_Those three who resemble my Touki according to what Sion said?'_ he reminded himself.

"Maybe. We don't know." Reeve let out a breath of exasperation. "We're trying to track them down now."

"I understand." The engineer glanced around, reading a sign post and judging his distance from the building. "I'm not that far. I should be there within ten minutes.

He closed the phone before Reeve could say anything else and shoved it into his pocket. The president would understand given the current situation. Everything was blowing up around them before they could get a handle on it. Archer could only hope that another long and drawn out war wasn't in the making.

He had ten minutes to get his emotions under control. Luckily, he had a lot of skill in doing that. He was certain he could hide it from the others. He didn't want them to know anything had changed.

It simply couldn't be coincidence that Kadaj resembled Sephiroth or that he had started acting strangely around the same time that all the other odd events were happening, including the appearance of the Geostigma. It was only in the past month or so, however, that Kadaj had really started to disappear and become difficult to contact. But did that really mean that his Touki was one of the brothers, one of those with Jenova in his veins? The same that had taken and tortured Zack and Elena? Archer's stomach churned at the thought.

He didn't want to believe it but the evidence spoke for itself, the evidence that he didn't want to peer too closely at for fear he would have to give up something he didn't want to give up. True Kadaj was much younger than him, but that had nothing to do with his maturity, his knowledge. There was something strong and undeniable about him, something gravitating that he couldn't ignore.

And now he was supposed to forget? Just like that? Impossible.

Archer couldn't help but wonder if he was cursed to always lose those he cared care for. Because every time he turned around, they were leaving him. It was a never ending loop from which he couldn't escape.

* * *

a/n: Thanks for reading! I look forward to your comments!


	7. Embrace Nothing

a/n: For some reason, I am very dissatisfied with this chapter. I am proud of the plot I had chosen but not the way I've written, if that makes any sense. I would appreciate any comments!

Also, this is self-beta'ed. All screw-ups are mine and mine alone. Be warned.

**Shattered Children: Chapter Four**

**Embrace Nothing**

"Sephy!" Marlene shouted as she pushed open the front door of the ShinRa Mansion, Denzel edging past her to enter first. Her voice echoed in the silent stillness of the creepy building.

There was no answer save the soft swaying of cobwebs in the high ceiling and the creaking of a building that was old and mostly abandoned. The young child's lips pulled into disappointment but Denzel wasn't going to be swayed just yet. They hadn't checked anywhere yet and he knew that if Sephiroth were below, he wouldn't be able to hear their calls anyways.

Tseng followed the children at a more sedate pace, keeping a careful eye out for monsters but more or less letting them run free as they wished. He wasn't a babysitter, the best he could do was ensure their safety. He left the discipline up to Aeris.

It was more of a favor to the widow that he was doing this anyways. On his way back from Wutai, he had stopped by Rocket Town looking for Sephiroth. Since the former General wasn't answering his phone, he hoped to catch the man and talk about what happened the last time they were together. Unfortunately, Sephiroth wasn't there when he arrived. However, Denzel and Marlene were under the impression that he could be found in Nibelheim.

This was news to Tseng. He hadn't even known that his lover was frequenting the ShinRa Mansion but apparently, Sephiroth had been found scouring the basement on occasion. No one knew what he was looking for, just that he had been a man possessed – no pun intended – searching for some clue or some bit of research that held the answers.

The children, Denzel especially, had begged to be taken to Nibelheim but since Aeris had Midori to look after, she couldn't take them. And Tseng found it increasingly difficult to say no to Marlene when she gave him _those_ eyes. Not to mention he wanted to find Sephiroth for himself.

"Mr. Tseng!"

Marlene calling his name snapped him out of his thoughtful fog. He looked up to find both children waiting for him at the top of the stairs, practically dancing on their toes as they paused for him to catch up. Placing a hand on the hilts of Tenken, Tseng quickly climbed the steps.

"Did you find something?" he asked, cresting the last stair.

Denzel nodded, pointing towards the bedrooms to the left. "He's been sleeping here," the boy said quietly. "The bed's rumpled and there are wrappers on the table."

The Turk lifted a brow, following the child's directions and striding down the hall. This was also news to him. He lifted a hand, laying it gently on Denzel's head as the two children trotted beside him.

"You could be a Turk," he commented, knowing that in many ways, Denzel was already looking up to his adopted father and wanting to be just like him. "You're investigative skills are great."

In his quiet way, the boy preened under the attention.

Marlene grabbed Tseng's other hand, not wanting to be left out. "What about me, Mr. Tseng?" she asked. "Could I be a Turk? Like Elena-aneki?"

Despite himself, the Turk commander chuckled. "I hope you are nothing like Elena," he responded with a shake of his head, thinking of the fate of the world if there were two of his dear subordinate. Then, noticing Marlene's crestfallen expression, he clarified.

"What I mean is, you would be better."

The sunny smile on her face was worth the exaggeration. Tseng sincerely hoped that it would never come to that for either child. He didn't want them to have the kind of life he had lived. They were children of war, that was true, but he hoped that the time coming meant learning to fight for their lives, their very survival, had passed. He was sick of seeing blood on the faces of young ones.

Denzel slipped out from under his hand, trotting a few extra steps in front of him and darting into the empty room on the left.

"Wait for me!" Marlene shouted, pouting visibly as she released Tseng's hand and chased after the boy. "No fair, Denzel!"

The Turk shook his head. Children had so much energy. His childhood had been nothing like that. It was almost enough to make a man jealous. Almost.

He followed the two young ones into the room, casting his eyes over the space. It did appear as if someone had taken up a brief residence. The bed was rumpled like Denzel had described, the top comforter thrown to the side and the sheets bunched. The nightstand had a few wrappers, mostly energy bars or trail rations. But the drawer itself was hanging slightly open, enticing Tseng into curiosity.

Marlene poked and prodded at a pile of loose odds and ends, likely belonging to the previous owners of the mansion while Denzel moved to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer. His face drew into a frown as he reached in, withdrawing his hand to reveal what he had found within.

"Is Sephy hurt?" he asked, anxiety filling his tone as he looked up at the Turk.

Tseng felt his mouth go dry at the sight of the bandages, more of a familiar sight than he wanted them to be. He crossed the room, reaching out to pluck the linen wrappings from Denzel's hand.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, hating that he had to lie to them. But he couldn't bear telling them the truth either. "If he is, I wouldn't worry. Sephiroth is strong."

Denzel smiled up at him, small but managing to brighten his eyes. "I know." He shoved the drawer shut with his hands, trapping a few other stray bandage bits in the seam. "He's the strongest in the world."

The innocence of a child. If he only knew.

"Denzel! Look what I found!" Marlene called out to her playmate, beckoning the boy over.

The child trotted over to examine whatever Marlene was excited over, leaving Tseng to stare at the bandages in his hand. They weren't used yet, but he knew eventually they would be. That was always the case.

He was the only one who knew, of course, because he was the only one who had opportunity to see Sephiroth undressed. But the children didn't need to know – Denzel especially – that the man they looked up to also suffered from Geostigma. Or that his case was the most advanced Tseng had seen while the person still lived. The vast quantities of mako and Jenova in his blood were probably to blame.

Denzel didn't need to worry and Sephiroth had specifically asked him not to say anything to the boy. Even when he found out that Denzel was afflicted, he still didn't want the child to know. He was counting his days, wondering when the disease would consume him. Tseng knew that it was pure luck Sephiroth still lived, perhaps a testament to how perfect ShinRa had tried to make him.

The Turk's fingers tightened as they enclosed around the bandage. Sephiroth had never meant for Tseng to find out either, even if it was inevitable. That night, nearly a year ago, had purely been an accident.

_The elbow to his side had been the first thing to wake him, and the moment his brain lifted from a fog, the emotions hit him. Strong enough to cause him to double over, stomach twisting and churning with disgust. He wanted to get up and run to the restroom, spend the next five years bent over the toilet, but his legs simply wouldn't move. _

_Revulsion. Hatred. Pain. Disgust. Loathing. Shame. Guilt. Humiliation. Fear. _

_They cycled, one on top of the other, crashing into his brain and sending sharp stabs of agony through him. Tseng gasped, sucking in a sharp breath as he tried to ascertain what had caused the lapse in his shields. It took a moment for him to concentrate through the sensations and feelings that were so strong, they tried to mesh with his own, simply to share the pain and shame. _

"_...no... not again..." _

_Low murmurs filtered to his ear, sounding terrified, the pitch that of a man's but the tone that of a child's. Sephiroth. He had nearly forgotten, having not yet grown used to sharing his bed, that the former General had stayed with him that night. _

"_... can't... don't... _please

_He was begging someone, that plea enough to cause Tseng's heart to stutter. He had never heard such loss, such desperation. Even from his own memories of begging to go home, begging his mother not to leave, he hadn't sounded that despairing. _

_Tseng tried to swallow down the acid churning in his gut, the nausea that was nearly eclipsing as he turned over, finally laying eyes on Sephiroth. The man was tossing and turning against the sheets, eyes squeezed shut and face pinched with distress. _

"_... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." _

_The last, sounding like a broken record of pleas, was what broke Tseng, shooting him out of his own pain and into action. He couldn't stand to hear it, the urge to tear off his ears if only to cease listening rising up within him. Broken. He sounded so damned broken. _

_Tseng rolled over and grabbed Sephiroth's shoulders. "Sephiroth!" he called loudly, shaking him perhaps a bit too violently. But he couldn't deny that there was an edge of fear on his own heart as well. Not for himself but for whatever past his lover was currently suffering to relive again. _

_Mako green eyes popped open as Sephiroth abruptly awoke with a start, and quite violently. A fist shot into the air, Tseng barely dodging the blow as he shoved Sephiroth back down to the bed with all his strength. Beneath him, the former General was struggling to breath, drawing in heavy and harsh pants like a man recently saved from drowning. _

_His eyes were wide, full of fear and something else, something a bit more terrifying that the Turk never, ever wanted to bear witness to again. He received a glimpse, in that moment, of the madness that could burn down a town and slaughter a best friend. _

_There was such a thing as knee-shaking, blood-curdling terror, as a piercing agony that one would rather die than experience. Of a fear so beyond your imagination that just the barest mention of it was enough to make you lose your bladder and run screaming until you were hoarse. There were nightmares that stole your soul and crunched it to pieces, chomping all too hungrily on what might have been left of your person. _

_Whatever reflected in Sephiroth's gaze had been worse than that. Whatever caused his emotions to turn to solid fire raging with destruction and death was so foul, so rancid that for the briefest of moments, Tseng felt himself gagging. His own eyes widened with fright as he swallowed thickly, feeling himself cringe just the slightest. _

_Sephiroth blinked and abruptly shoved Tseng away from him, turning over and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His feet hit the floor, planting solidly as the former General hunched over, elbows on his knees and burying his face in one hand. His hair curtained around his head, hiding his face from Tseng but even so, the Turk could see that he was violently shaking. _

_The Wutaiian was pretty sure he was shaking as well. _

_Taking a deep breath, Tseng stared at the back of his lover's head. "Sephiroth..." he murmured, reaching out with the intention of touching the man's shoulder. _

"_Don't," Sephiroth rasped before his fingers could even brush a pale shoulder, his voice hoarse and frightened, more begging than requesting._

_He dropped his hand, lowering it back to his side. _

_He hated the part of himself that was just a bit afraid right now. He despised the part of his logic that wondered how often this had happened before and if Zack knew about it. But most of all, he loathed the feeling his legs had to get up and run away. _

_The silence between them was palatable, bitter and rotten to the core. _

_Frustrated, Tseng focused his gaze on Sephiroth's back, staring with determination. That was when he noticed it, the bandages wrapped around his lover's upper torso were slipping. They revealed not claw marks as Sephiroth had claimed, but a darkening bruise, mottled and purple. _

_Geostigma. _

_Not a monster's lucky strike. _

_Geostigma. _

_Sephiroth had lied to him. It wasn't an injury caused by some beast escaped from Hojo's lab. It wasn't slow to heal because of a strange new saliva and anti-coagulate properties. It wasn't an accident. _

_Geostigma. _

_Tseng's blood began to run cold. He should have known better. There was no creature out there that could get the better of Sephiroth. There was no way a man as skilled as he could be that vulnerable. He should have known better. _

_He saw it now. The extent of the bruising stretched across Sephiroth's upper back between his shoulder blades. And if that were any indication, then the bandages wrapped around his left arm also hid more sores from the disease. It was one of the most wide-spread cases that Tseng had ever seen. _

"_You have Geostigma," Tseng stated quietly. He couldn't help but wince at the note of accusation in his voice, the feelings of betrayal, as his hands clenched into fists. _

_He would have helped, dammit. He would have done something rather than let Sephiroth suffer alone. Why did he have to be such a stubborn bastard?_

_Sephiroth remained silent, his position unchanging. _

"_Why did you lie?" Tseng pressed, hating the heavy feel of the air surrounding them. _

"_You don't need to worry about it," Sephiroth responded, the muscles in his back twitching. The dangling hand clenched and unclenched, causing the bandages on his arm to shift. "It's my curse to bear." _

_Tseng pursed his lips, taking a deep breath. He dared reach out again, managing to set his hand on Sephiroth's shoulder without reproach. The former General shook beneath his touch, still violently, and his body was bathed in a cold sweat. The Turk chewed his lip, inching closer. _

_The bandages felt all too warm and soft beneath his fingers. "Sephiroth--"_

"_I don't want Denzel to know," Sephiroth interrupted, something in his tone sounding too much like defeat. "I don't want anyone to know."_

"_But Reeve--"_

"_--can't do anything," his lover finished for him. "You know that as well as I do. They don't have any more clue than I what's going on." His empty hand opened and closed. "Sometimes I can't even move this arm." _

_There was a pause before Tseng ventured, "Is that what you were dreaming about?" _

_Sephiroth visibly stiffened, keeping his silence. _

"_Talk to me."_

"_...No." _

_On the verge of frustration, his head still aching from the waves of dark emotions floating his way, Tseng pushed. "Sephiroth--"_

_A flash of complete and utter fear shot through the man, so strong it exploded through the Turk's shields. Afraid. Sephiroth was afraid of him. _

"_No, Tseng!" Sephiroth snapped. It was a tone that his lover had never taken with him before. _

_On instinct, Tseng recoiled. _

_The room filled with more silence. _

_Sephiroth sighed, shaking his head. "I don't... I don't want to remember," he admitted in a quiet voice, barely loud enough for Tseng to hear. "I would be happy if these memories disappeared." _

_Tseng furrowed his brow but before he could even ask anything else, Sephiroth abruptly stood and practically fled from the room, vanishing into the bathroom. The Wutaiian was left to ponder, his own hands trembling from what had just occurred. _

A small hand grabbed Tseng's empty fingers and tugged. "We should check the basement," Marlene suggested, looking up at him with bright, alive eyes, forcing him out of his memories.

Tseng nodded mutely, his eyes lingering on the bandages in his grasp as she let go and trotted across the floor to recruit Denzel. That night, Sephiroth had returned to the bed but refused to say anything else. The next morning, he disappeared for a full month and it was after that when he began keeping longer absences. The last time Tseng had seen his lover, the sores from Geostigma had spread further, creeping towards his neck.

The Turk couldn't help but morbidly wonder just how much longer his lover had to live.

"Why won't you let me help?" he whispered to himself.

"Mr. Tseng! We can't reach the switch!"

Marlene's voice was loud as it echoed through the mansion, seeking him out with unerring accuracy as only children were capable of doing.

He let the bandages slip through his fingers to the floor.

"I'm coming!"

* * *

The heavy sigh sounded overly dramatic, even to Reeve, as it pierced the comfortable silence of his office. He lifted his gaze from the proposal he was considering, tapping the end of the line with his pen so he wouldn't forget, and set his eyes on the perpetrator of said sigh. Archer was sitting in his usual chair, a stack of documents on his folded leg, but he didn't appear to be looking at them as much as he was staring off at something only he could see.

Reno, who had been standing by the window, exchanged glances with his husband. With a sneaky grin, he crept over to the engineer, waving a hand in front of the man's face.

"Yo, Archer! You in there?"

Amethyst eyes blinked. "What are you doing?" Archer demanded, slapping his hand down on his papers to stop them from sliding from his lap.

"I could ask you the same thing," Reno countered, peering curiously at the older male. "What's got you off in dreamland?"

Archer shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about?"

"You've been sighing like that for the past two hours," Reeve pointed out, having noticed it himself. "When you left for lunch you were excited. Then you returned melancholy."

The engineer lifted a brow, turning uninterested eyes back towards his documents. "Did I?" he posed, mindlessly organizing the report.

Husbands exchanged glances with Reno taking up the interrogation once more. "You were getting laid, weren't you?" he asked suddenly.

Archer stilled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on. No guy looks like that unless he's been getting some," Reno egged on, pleased to have something to do other than stare out the window and wait for something to happen. Besides, Revan was taking her afternoon nap right now so he couldn't go play with his daughter even if he wanted to.

"Reno," Reeve began in exasperation, putting down his pen in the interest of stretching out the kinks in his neck.

His husband shot him a pretend innocent look. "What?"

Archer sighed and rose to his feet, setting his burden down on the seat behind him. "You are incorrigible," he grumbled. "And impossibly nosy. There's nothing going on."

At his desk, Reeve shook his head, chuckling. "You only say that when you do have something to hide. You've always been terrible with secrets."

The engineer rolled his eyes. "And you're worse than he is. I'm beginning to think you would have made a great Turk."

"Yes. It is such a pity that I put aside my ambitions for that and settled for becoming President of the WRO," Reeve countered dryly, turning his eyes back towards the proposal though he had long lost interest in it. "It is not as if we are condemning you, Archer. We are merely concerned."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Archer sighed. "I know," he responded, turning away from both. "But it's not exactly something I want to talk about right now."

The door to Reeve's office suddenly burst open, torn from its hinges by an incredible force. It teetered to the ground with a loud crash, causing all three men to turn towards the doorway in disbelief. Their eyes widened when a silver-haired young man, dressed all in black, stepped into the room.

"Mr. President," the male drawled in an almost lazy tone that nearly mimicked Reno's. "How nice for us to finally meet."

A strangled sound emerged from Archer's throat, attracting the stranger's attention. Green eyes flickered his direction and for a moment, the boy was stunned solid.

'_Weakness,' _he told himself in a voice that suspiciously sounded like Mother's. _'This is the weakness that she always talked about.' _

The President jerked to his feet, eyes narrowed in anger. "Who are you?" he demanded, fixing a fierce glare on the intruder.

But it wasn't the boy who answered.

"K-Kadaj," Archer stuttered, his eyes widening as he unconsciously took a step back. Confusion was writ upon his face, confusion and sadness swirling together.

Reeve and the stranger both glanced at him briefly before the young man continued as if Archer had never spoken at all. "I should think it obvious," he announced, throwing one hand to the side in an idle gesture. "Even you know what I am here for."

"Jenova," the President hissed in understanding, his every sense on edge, waiting for Kadaj to make his first move.

Reno's mouth dropped in surprise. "This brat is the one that took down Zack?" he asked, voice filled with disbelief.

The young man, who could have been Sephiroth's younger brother, glanced briefly at Reno before completely dismissing him. "Nothing but a howling mutt," he muttered with a lack of interest.

The Turk pursed his lips, anger causing high spots of color to darken his cheeks as he snapped the Electro Rod in his hand. "Bastard," he hissed, darting towards Kadaj with the intent of taking the man down.

"Reno!"

But the redhead was beyond listening to any orders. He sprang towards Kadaj without fear, unwilling to let the brat even think about harming his friends. He swung viciously at the shorter male and that was when Kadaj seemed to _disappear_, his image becoming a faint outline. Reno stumbled, gaping in surprise and whirled just in time to feel his Electro Rod jerked from his hand.

_'That damn brat fuckin' disappeared_!' ran over and over in Reno's mind, disbelief etching onto his brain.

A fist slammed into his belly, knocking the breath out of him in one fell swoop. Reno gasped, attempting to twist away from Kadaj. He pivoted on his leg, aiming a kick at the younger man's head. Kadaj ducked easily, slamming his own damn weapon into his side and activating the electricity with a flick of his thumb.

"Auuuuugh!" Reno screamed, his entire body seizing as jolts raced through his body, setting all of his nerves on fire.

His knees buckled and he collapsed, landing on his hands and knees, struggling to draw breath into suddenly closing lungs. Kadaj rounded on him, kicking out and slamming his boot into Reno's soft belly. The Turk distinctly heard his own ribs crack and gasped, blood spurting wetly from his mouth as he toppled over, hacking harshly.

It all happened so damn quickly that Reeve barely had a chance to register it, staring in horror at the crumpled body of his husband, spitting up blood on the wooden floor.

The Electro Rod dropped to the ground with a clatter. "Pathetic," Kadaj sneered with distaste, shoving Reno over with a boot before lifting his gaze to the other two men. One black gloved hand reached for his sword.

Archer forced himself out of his stunned daze, hating the fact that he didn't have his Labrys. He searched his materia stores, throwing a Stop without delay. It struck the so-called remnant full force as Kadaj approached him and he paused but for only a moment. The young man shook it off as if it were nothing more than a sneeze.

Mako green eyes, so eerily similar to Sephiroth's, flashed angrily as Kadaj swung a fist at the engineer. Archer threw up his hands to block the blow and was thrust backwards by the sheer force of the punch, his arms screaming in agony where he was sure to have a bruise later. Provided he survived of course.

Kadaj flashed forward, shoving through Archer's defenses with ease and slamming his fist into the engineer's face. The older man's head snapped to the side, the impact knocking him into a crouch though his mind spun dizzily. Blood dribbled from his lip.

"I'm tired of games, Mr. President!" the remnant snarled, fingers pulled into another fist as he prepared to strike once more.

Reeve swallowed thickly, hating the fear that entered his heart. "Stand down," he ordered, noticing that Archer was beginning to rise once more, wiping away the blood on his chin.

The engineer shook his head, something unnameable in his eyes. "Reeve--"

But amber eyes hardened. "Stand. Down," the President uttered through gritted teeth. He flattened one palm on his desk, glaring at Kadaj as Archer reluctantly obeyed. "What do you want?"

The remnant turned away from Archer and smirked, raking a hand through his hair and not caring for the blood already spattering the leather. "Mother."

Reeve felt his insides twist with fury. "She is not here."

Kadaj shook his head, tsking lightly. "Boy, do I hate lies."

"It's not a lie. The object you seek fell from the helicopter while my subordinate was fleeing," the President lied, knowing that there was no way in Hades he was going to allow Kadaj to get a hold of Jenova. "I'm afraid it was a careless act."

The boy didn't seem to be buying it. He tilted his head to the side, stepping around Reno's gasping body. "Is that right?" he posed in an almost sultry tone, hand lingering near his sword.

"It is."

Green eyes watched as he held up his free hand, something perched between his fingers. "Then explain these," he retorted, flicking the items onto the desk in front of Reeve.

Twin clatters echoed in the office.

Despite himself, amber eyes turned towards the objects and Reeve stiffened, recognizing them both immediately. Elena's ID and Zack's earring, both covered in blood. Logically, he knew that the two were safe, currently being treated in the medical rooms a few floors below him. But the reminder of what they had suffered churned his stomach and incensed him all in the same moment.

He visibly pulled himself together, refraining from engaging in a fight before he could discern exactly what Kadaj had planned. "Why are you doing this?"

Kadaj's lips pulled into a malicious smirk.

Only a few feet from the remnant, Archer was slowly rising to his feet, wincing at the ache in his jaw. He knew there had to be a bruise but was even more certain that had Kadaj used his full strength, he would be suffering from a broken jaw. There had to be something of his lover still inside, there had to be.

Archer didn't want to believe that the past year had been nothing but a lie.

"We need Mother's power," Kadaj finally answered, straightening and lowering his hand from the hilt of his sword. "The Reunion is coming."

Reeve frowned, something about the term niggling at the back of his mind as if he had heard it before. "Reunion...?"

The remnant suddenly laughed, throwing his arms to the side demonstratively. "Yes, Reunion. My brothers and sisters who all share Mother's cells will all assemble, and together we'll take revenge on the planet! We already sent out the invitations, but..." he paused, shaking his head and giving a dangerous chuckle. "You know, someone's gone and hidden the guest of honor."

The President couldn't help but wonder if the crazed boy was including Sephiroth in their plans. "Invitations?" he repeated, wanting Kadaj to clarify.

Kadaj smiled coyly, approaching Reeve though he remained ever-aware of Archer slowly inching nearer. "The stigma," he said simply. "But, you know all about that, don't you, sir? Mother's mimetic legacy lives on in the Lifestream and makes it happen."

Reeve's eyes widened. Had their assumptions been correct? Was Kadaj implying that Geostigma _was _caused by Jenova in the Lifestream?

"She does... so much for us," Kadaj continued, beginning to sound as if he were on his way to a petulant pout. "And we... we don't even know where to find her!" He crossed his arms over his chest, balancing one elbow on his hand as he gestured with empty fingers. "But what can we do? We're just remnants."

The President frowned, tilting his head to the side. "Remnants?" he asked, feeling like he was only parroting Kadaj's words back at him.

But the boy was no longer really paying attention to him. His face twisted, for once looking every bit like a spoiled child not getting his way than a man possessed by Jenova. "Really. Remnants of Mother's legacy." He glowered, eyes darkening. "Until we find Mother and receive cells, we can't be whole again. Geostigma and a legacy aren't enough for a true reunion."

The last was said in a shuddering tone, as his hand clenched into a fist, both suddenly dropping to his side. "And even then, we won't be good enough."

Somewhat startled by the change in Kadaj, the President forced himself to respond. "It is unfortunate. But as I said, your mother is not here."

The remnant turned towards him, staring as his face lost all trace of mockery. "You lie, Mr. President. And I know, because I can feel her." His eyes flickered to the door just past Reeve. "In there, I wonder?"

Reeve jerked, his heart trying to leap out of his chest in concern as he stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his chair in an effort to place himself before the door. He knew that it would have been better if he pretended there was nothing of importance behind the door but his _daughter _was in that room. He simply couldn't just stand aside.

On the ground, Reno coughed up blood and shakily tried to climb to his feet. "Stay away from there," he growled, his legs feeling like jelly as he clutched his ribs.

"She is not here," Reeve reiterated, his hand clenching into a fist as he physically blocked the door with his body. His entire body threatened to tremble with fear for his daughter's safety.

Kadaj chuckled menacingly. "Now I have to look," he purred, taking a purposeful step towards the door. Something flashed green and poisonous in his eyes.

The President wasn't' taking any chances. He flicked a dagger into his hand warningly, flicking his gaze past the so-called remnant to the others, Archer especially who had managed to creep close to be of aid. From the look on his face, he was preparing to cast something, hopefully debilitating.

"I won't let you," Reeve declared icily.

The corner of Kadaj's mouth curled up into a smirk and Reeve's muscles tensed, preparing for an attack that never came. Kadaj suddenly turned and grabbed Archer by the neck, shoving him against the wall with the strength of only one arm. His thumb dug into the man's throat as he lifted the engineer clear off the throat.

Archer gasped, his hands scrabbling uselessly at the boy's arm. "K-Kadaj," he gasped, eyes pleading his lover.

His pleas were ignored. "I could kill him, Mr. President," Kadaj threatened, leaning forwards and curling out his tongue, licking along Archer's cheek to Reeve's surprise.

The engineer choked, fingers digging into black leather. "W-what... are you doing, Touki?"

The silver-haired male paled.

"_Why do you call me that?" _

"_I think it's only fair, don't you?" _

_His lover shot him a disbelieving look. _

_Archer chuckled and kissed the side of his neck. "Because you remind me of winter, cold and beautiful." He dragged his hands down a pale side, fingers briefly dancing over pale and scarred skin. "Except you're pretty warm when I do this," he added, tongue flicking over an erogenous zone. _

_Hips surged into his touch as his lover moaned. "You're positively evil, Kyle. Warmth makes snow melt. Or didn't you know that?" _

_The engineer made a noncommittal noise in his throat, lips busily tasting more of that delectable skin. "But it comes back when the seasons cycle," he replied without missing a beat, one hand sliding around the outside of a thigh. "It always comes back." _

Kadaj jerked, pupils narrowing to pinpoints as his face appeared to soften. He looked at the man in his grip, those imploring amethyst eyes and for a moment, his grip slackened by just a fraction.

"Touki..."

The remnant flinched as if visibly struck and bared his teeth, fingers tightening and causing Archer to choke, feeling spots flicker behind his eyes.

"Let him go," Reeve demanded, standing firm and attracting Kadaj's attention. "His death will gain you nothing."

"On the contrary," Kadaj countered, staring directly into once-familiar eyes. "Death will gain me everything." He looked over his shoulder at Reeve and smirked, dragging Archer by the neck and tossing him almost effortlessly, as if he were nothing more than a discarded toy.

The engineer flew across the room, colliding with Reno who had finally found it in him to cast a Cure and was making his way across the floor. They struck the floor, limbs entangling as Archer went limp, coughing and struggling to draw in a breath.

It was ridiculous, Reeve swore to himself. There was no way that thin child should have so much power. It was like standing and facing Sephiroth once again.

And then, Kadaj was suddenly _there_, perched right in front of Reeve where he hadn't been before. He moved faster than a blink, less than a foot away from the President with that same sick smile and sadistic glee painted onto his face. Gone was the confusion and flashes of insecurity, leaving only madness behind.

"Let me be the first to show you," Kadaj purred and reached up, grabbing the stunned President by the head with both hands.

Reeve wanted to fight back, present more of a challenge than dropping to his knees and screaming at the top of his lungs as what can only be described as _pain_ rocketed through his body. It felt as if needles were shooting through his brain and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. On the edge of his conscious, he heard Reno call his name but it was lost in the images that suddenly blasted into his mind.

Sephiroth. Burning fires. Laughter, so much laughter and... pride? Blood dripping on a white, white floor and someone was crying in the corner. Begging with a child's eyes for a reprieve.

He could feel his knees tremble as his hands fall uselessly to his sides, the knife falling from nerveless fingers with a clatter.

It was a melange of thoughts and memories and pain and sadness, all swirling and attacking him with a fury previously unrivaled. He saw Jenova, whole, as she was before Hojo began taking slices from her flesh. A blue-bodied woman, silver hair streaming from her rather dainty expression and cold green eyes.

He saw Sephiroth, masamune in hand and standing over a sea of roaring flames. But there were tears dripping down his face. Past or future, he couldn't tell.

"Now," Kadaj hissed, fingers digging into Reeve's scalp. "Tell me where she is."

But the President couldn't form a word, much less even begin to comprehend the question. He teetered on the edge and gasping, struggled to remain conscious.

Kadaj sneered in disgust, fully prepared to dispose of the useless human in front of him. Mother was crying for his blood, viciously demanding to see it painting the white walls.

A sound suddenly blasted from behind him, causing him to startle and whirl, releasing his hold on the executive. Reeve toppled to the floor, losing the battle for consciousness, but Kadaj paid him no attention. His eyes were fixated on the baby monitor where an infant's cry for care blared loudly.

The remnant flinched as if he had been stung, something all too human flashing in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, jaw visibly trembling to the surprise of the other two men.

Kadaj shook his head, suddenly grabbing his temple. "No. No. _**No**_!" He abruptly leapt over the desk, darting past both Reno and Archer and out the door without another word.

Though confused by what had just happened, Reno pushed it to the back of his mind. He rushed towards his crumpled husband. "Reeve!"

Behind him, Archer sucked in a breath, still turned towards the open door that Kadaj had disappeared through. He took in a step in that direction.

"Archer!" Reno snarled, stopping him in his tracks as he glared at the engineer. "Don't you dare think of going after him!"

The engineer whirled on him, face drawn tight with a mixture of confusion and misery, an argument written on his features.

"I don't care what the fuck is going on but--"

Reno abruptly cut off as Reeve coughed, eyelids fluttering as he awoke, one hand rising to his head which throbbed as if he had been spending the entire night in a bottle of tequila. "Reno...?"

The Turk breathed a sigh of relief. "Dammit," he cursed, holding Reeve's head to his chest. "You always fuckin' scare me!"

The executive reached up, tangling his fingers in red hair soothingly. "Sorry," he whispered.

Archer turned away from the couple, his eyes following the path that Kadaj had taken. He wanted to go after his own lover so badly that it swelled up inside of him, threatening to burst. Logically, he knew that Kadaj was so far ahead that he'd never catch up. But he had to know, he had to ask _why_.

He had known, from the moment Kadaj crashed through the door, that the boy standing there was not the same Touki that he had spent the last year with. There was a change in his eyes, once a soft green but now burning with venom. And for a moment, he could have sworn that he had the true Kadaj back.

It had to be that bitch, that Jenova, that was influencing him. Just as she had tugged on Sephiroth's strings, she was now doing the same to Kadaj. And Archer couldn't help but want to save him.

He took a step.

"Archer."

The engineer paused mid-stride. "I have to," he responded without turning to look at either of the two men behind him. He could guess that they were watching him now, though he couldn't see them, and knew that questions were likely banking behind their lips. But he didn't feel like he had the answers to give them, or the time to spare.

There was a moment of silence.

"He'll kill you," Reeve said quietly, his voice filled with sympathy. "Without a second thought."

The engineer's lips thinned as he shook his head, thinking of that one second, that one instance when Touki had looked at him and not that bitch. "No. He's still human," he responded resolutely. "She doesn't have him completely. Not yet. She doesn't..." he trailed off in frustration, wishing he could explain it better.

A bitter silence descended on the room, quickly broken by Revan's cries through the monitor. She had likely woken from all the noise.

Reno sighed. "I'll get her," he said, turning away and padding to the door, disappearing into the back room with a last, "Daddy's coming, sweetheart." It would have been cute if weren't for the situation.

Once his husband was gone, Reeve exhaled softly. "Why didn't you say something?" he asked, picking his way to his chair and righting it before plopping down into it. He was rubbing his forehead where a headache still lingered, despite the brief Cure he had whispered for both he and Reno.

Archer breathed deeply, struggling to gain a hold of himself as he ripped his gaze from staring longingly out the door. "You're the ones that said Sephiroth didn't have any siblings. I thought it was okay."

"Okay?" Reeve countered, voice thick with his disbelief as he gaped at his close friend. "In what part of your logic could it be okay?"

Archer winced but the President continued. "He looks just like Sephiroth whom we all know is the only person in the world with silver hair! And he's just a kid! Not even half your age!"

"Like you're one to talk," the engineer snapped, whirling on his boss and friend as annoyance trickled into his emotions, mixing with the sadness and confusion and leaving him a certified, effusive wreck.

Reeve eyed the other man. "This is different," he protested.

"How?" Archer demanded, stepping towards the desk and flattening his palms on it. "How is it different, Reeve? Sephiroth was just the same as Kadaj and now look at him. He's not perfect but he's trying. Who's to say that Kadaj isn't just like him, needing to be saved?"

Amber eyes widened in understanding as Reeve took in the earnest in Archer's expression. Even with bruises already developing around his neck and face, with his feelings having been ground to dust, the engineer was still determined. He still _believed. _

"By Kami," the President breathed in amazement. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

The other man paled, backpedaling quickly. "I-I'm not," he denied in a small voice. "At least... I can't be."

It didn't sound as if he believed himself, his words ringing hollow and untrue.

Reeve shook his head, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. "You are," he realized, wondering if the world had just gone mad when he wasn't looking. "Between you and Tseng, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"About what?" Reno asked, suddenly appearing in the room with a bundle cuddled in his arms. He rocked Revan gently, his daughter gurgling happily as she received the attention she had wanted so desperately.

"Kadaj," Reeve answered with a pointed look at Archer, refusing to reveal the man's secret just yet. "He won't stop until he acquires Jenova. I don't know what made him stop this time but I can guarantee he'll be back."

Reno frowned, coming to a pause besides his husband. "Maybe Vincent knows something."

"It's possible," the President responded. "But I have to wait until he contacts me. Until then... it's anyone's guess."

Both men seemed oblivious to the fact that Archer himself was torn, caught in the middle of unsurety. He didn't know what to do.

"What do you think will be his next move?" Reno put forth.

The President shook his head. "I don't know. Jenova wants nothing more than absolute destruction and right now, she has three perfect puppets. We have no choice but to stop them."

He lifted his eyes to Archer, amber full of sympathy. "Whatever it takes."

The engineer sighed and looked away.

He didn't want to admit that maybe, Reeve was right.

* * *

a/n: Thanks for reading! I'm steadily working on this now that Shattered Traditions is finished. For those of you interested, there's Tseng/Seph fanart (not graphic at all) on my homepage. Thanks!


	8. And Baby Makes Three

**Warning: Slash, Lemon (not too graphic considering what I've seen on this site o.o ), and Fluff, because I can't write these two anymore without it. Impossible romantics. --eyes Reeve and Reno suspiciously--**

**Shattered Children: Interlude Two**

**And Baby Makes Three**

_**Reno/Reeve**_

It was very quiet in their apartment right now, Reeve remarked to himself from where he stood at the huge, floor-length windows facing Junon's harbor. He could hear the faint sounds of the water running in the bathroom – Reno taking a shower – and the distant rumble of the aged refrigerator. But other than that, it was mostly quiet. Peaceful, he supposed. Not that he minded. It was just a reminder that things wouldn't remain that way for long.

In a month's time, give or take a few days, he would have a daughter creating enough noise for both he and Reno. It was definitely something to look forward to. But right now, Reeve relished in the hushed calm. He lifted his hand, sipping at the glass of wine he had poured for himself and simply enjoyed the view. He pushed the thoughts of the meeting he would have to attend soon from his mind.

Below him, Junon itself was asleep, most of the residents tucked away in their homes considering that it was nearly three in the morning. He could just make out the scars from the Chaos War on the cities walls and streets, harsh reminders that things weren't always peaceful. They were still in the process of rebuilding, bit by bit. The entire planet had suffered a crushing blow.

He heard the sound of the showers shut off behind him before turning his attentions back to his musings, idly running a free hand over his own shower damp hair. He wondered if it was too selfish of him to want to take a vacation before he lost his chance. Between the WRO, providing support to the entire planet, and dealing with a pregnant Reis – moody didn't even begin to describe _her_ behavior – he was more than ready to take one. He wouldn't have time for luxury after Revan's birth.

The door creaked open behind him, prompting him to turn and look over his shoulder. Reno emerged, a cloud of steam following him as he stepped naked into the main room. He rubbed a towel over his hair, leaving the long red strands in disarray, the streaked tattoos on his face bright against his skin. He was likely dripping all over the fabric. Reno never could dry off completely and Reeve could never figure out why.

"Thinkin' again?" Reno asked, lifting his head once he noticed his husband practically leering at him. He dropped his hands, leaving the towel to drape over his head as he moved across the floor and stood beside his husband.

Amber eyes regarded him with amusement. "Your penchant for exhibitionism never ceases to amaze me," he commented, lifting his glass again and taking a sip.

A red eyebrow lifted. "You sayin' you don't like the view, yo?"

Reeve smiled and turned towards the window, gesturing towards the darkness of the sea just visible beyond the thick glass. "No. The ocean is rather lovely at night." He couldn't quite hide the teasing grin pulling at his lips.

His husband rolled his eyes. "Very funny," Reno retorted, idly scratching at his belly as he looked out the window. He had to admit, it was a great view, though he was more interested in the sight beside him at the moment.

A hand slipped out, smooth and silent as Turk should be, and grabbed hold of the sash of Reeve's thigh-length robe. Before the President could even protest, he was suddenly dragged towards his husband, locked in his hold. He dropped his wine glass to the floor in surprise. It struck with a bounce, spilling the alcohol all over the carpet but thankfully not shattering.

"Reno!"

His cry of protest was swallowed by a kiss as his slightly taller lover wrapped his arms around Reeve's robed waist and kissed him gently. Not one to lose an opportunity when presented to him, Reeve was all too willing to return the embrace, enjoying the slow and gentle kiss.

"Oi, in a month we won't have this luxury," Reno murmured, his nude form still warm and slick-soft from the shower. "We'll be all too busy at the beck and call of an infant," he added, meshing their lips together once more.

Well used to his husband's habit of ravishing behavior, Reeve merely sighed into the kiss and returned it. He slid one hand up Reno's back, resting just at the beginning of the younger man's spine. A few trickles of water streamed down the pale skin, likely from his hair.

"I know. Aren't you excited?" Reeve returned, tugging on the towel so that it settled around Reno's shoulders and he could finally see easily into his lover's bright eyes. Amusingly, the red hair was flattened against Reno's head, giving him a faintly drowned appearance. It was cute.

Aquamarine eyes cut to the side. "Excited is one word I could use," he admitted, deft fingers tracing arousing motions on Reeve's robed back. "Apprehensive and scared shitless are two others you could try, yo."

Reeve laughed, shaking his head. "I know. I feel the same way. But then, I'm pretty certain we'll be fine." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "We've plenty of teachers after all."

The Turk made a face, an amusing mix of terror and annoyance, as he thought of the instructions Aeris and the others had been pounding into his head. "Unfortunately."

To chase away all approaching and slightly terrifying memories, he lifted a hand, tugging on Reeve's sash once more. The loose knot came undone easily, letting the robe fall open and grant him the access he had wanted from the beginning. His hand snaked in faster than Reeve could protest, not that he entirely wanted, and fingers splayed across skin a few shades darker than his own.

The President shivered. "Insatiable," he teased, glancing briefly towards the window. "And we don't have tinted glass."

"Let 'em look." Reno tipped his head to kiss Reeve once more, dragging their bodies roughly together, bare skin to bare skin.

A surge of desire spiked through the older man. The slow and sensual slide of their lips ignited him, a simmering burn of want and need. One of the Turk's hands pulled off his robe, letting the cotton fabric drop to the floor as the other moved to cup the back of Reeve's neck, fingers trailing in short, dark strands.

"You know I can't see you in this robe without havin' to take it off, yo," Reno murmured, moving his lips to Reeve's ear and suckling on the lobe.

The President sucked in a sharp breath. "That's your excuse every time," he responded, his own hands no less busy.

They roamed all over his husband's body, mapping out contours he had already memorized in their many years of being together. Still, sometimes he thought he found something new, something unrealized. One of his palms ghosted over Reno's flat nipples, watching as they pebbled slightly in the chill air. His fingers scraped across Reno's back, sure enough, finding more lingering water droplets.

"I know. I think you wear it just so I can use that excuse," Reno countered, hungrily taking his lips to Reeve's throat. "You taste clean."

The older male grinned. "Bathing tends to do that," he responded dryly, gasping when a hand wrapped around him, quickly stroking his half-arousal to life. Heat began to pool in his groin, every touch an inspiring whisper.

Reno chuckled against his husband's skin, suckling on the darker flesh and leaving a mark behind. He knew it would irritate Reeve but couldn't seem to help himself.

The air was soon filled with the sound of their kisses, the soft slide of fingers against skin. Passions rose, bodies moving together in a well-understood rhythm. A towel was tossed to the ground, quickly forgotten in the moment as they reveled in the temporary peace.

"Hey," Reno began after a moment, fingers dancing a heated trail up his older lover's spine as he breathed hotly in Reeve's ear. "Indulge me."

The President knew where his husband was heading without even having to guess. Reno's kinks were not only well-known to him, but often his own. "We're on the fifteenth floor, Reno," he said, thinking he ought to remind the adventurous man.

"And?"

"I'm the President. This isn't exactly something that's smiled upon." Even as he protested, however, Reeve knew he was going to give in. Just the mere thought was sending shocks of arousal through his entire body. Damn if his husband didn't know how to push all of his buttons.

Reno wasn't willing to give up just yet. "And?" he repeated, sensing he was wearing down on his husband's resistance. "Who's going to see? The seagull? Can't little Reeve..." he paused long enough to give a knee-shaking stroke to Reeve's arousal, ".. perform under pressure?"

The President groaned, a shiver racing down his spine from the heated pants right on his ear. "I hate it when you do that."

"Give it nicknames?"

"No. Tempt me."

Reno grinned, that same salacious grin that Reeve had come to both love and hate over the years. "So you'll do it?"

He wasn't entirely certain he had the option to say no. Besides, there was a point in it all. Oftentimes, Reno had double-meanings in the stuff he did.

The President sighed in acquiescence. "Honestly, you'll be the death of me someday."

Reno's grin widened. "I love you, baby," he announced, dipping his head to kiss his husband senseless once more.

"You'd better," Reeve replied laconically before continuing, a faint red flush staining his cheeks. "How do you want me?"

He was too old to be blushing like that but Reno still thought it was the cutest damn thing in the world. Hunger rose up in him strongly and he pulled back, suddenly whirling his husband around so that he faced the window.

"Hands on the glass," he whispered in a seductive tone, licking around the shell of Reeve's ear. "I'll be right back."

The heat of his body abruptly disappeared, leaving Reeve feeling somewhat bereft as the Turk padded away, likely to get the lube. The President shook his head, trying to ignore the arousal threading through his veins as he turned his attention to the window. He could see nothing but the dark sway of the ocean and the shadows of Junon, the majority of the lights extinguished.

It was pretty late/early, most of the town asleep. And they _were _on the fifteenth floor. The chance of them scarring some innocent bystander for life were very, very slim. Reno was right after all. The birth of their daughter meant long, sleepless nights. Meant little time for intimacy and play. But he wouldn't miss it for anything.

Behind him, the lights of the main room flicked off before a body pressed against his back, familiar and warm. "Miss me?" Reno asked, voice having dropped into a low and sensual purr.

"Not for a second," Reeve joked, turning his head to the side to give those plundering lips access to his flesh.

Reno's tongue flicked across his skin as he heard the sound of a bottle pop open. Reeve shivered, body tightening in anticipation, long conditioned to that sound.

"Liar," Reno accused affectionately, raining kisses across the back of Reeve's shoulder as he dumped the oil onto his fingers.

The President hummed in appreciation. "Mmm, you're right. I was just thinking that we won't have time for this in the future. You know what they say..."

Reno snorted. "We'll make time," he stated with determination, sliding one around around Reeve's waist as he nudged two slick fingers inside his older lover, quickly prepping him. He licked the back of Reeve's ear.

"You're right," the President responded on the end of a gasp, his body trying to go boneless as thinking became a true difficulty. "We will."

The Turk hummed in agreement, curling his fingers and causing his husband to shudder. Reeve panted, sucking his lip between his teeth as his nails scraped against the glass.

"Reno..."

He had never been able to say no to the sound of his name in that tone. "As you wish."

He removed his fingers, disregarding Reeve's moue of disappointment, and quickly slicked up his own arousal. He pressed himself against Reeve's back, his fingers rubbing smoothly over the man's belly. The President arched towards him encouragingly, though he didn't move from the window. That was all it took for Reno to slide inside of him with ease and familiarity, coaxing a soft sigh from his older lover.

The Turk began an unhurried and steady pace, a deliberate rocking in and out. He leaned his slimmer body against Reeve's, reaching forward and placing his palm over Reeve's on the window, entangling their fingers together. Each thrust rasped through the President, making him moan as his body slickened with sweat. It was both incredibly dirty and incredibly erotic as slim, Turk-skilled fingers dragged across his abdomen teasingly before cupping his arousal, lazily stroking him.

"It's turning you on," Reno whispered in his husband's ear, lifting his eyes to watch Reeve's expression in the reflection of the window. The reason he had turned the lights off except for the small lamp just behind him. Amber eyes were closed, obviously lingering in the swell of emotions and pleasures.

Reno's hips continued their steady rocking motion. "Admit it," he urged. "You like thinking someone might be watching, my kinky president."

The President groaned, somewhat embarrassed as that flush spread across his face. "You're impossible."

Reno chuckled, nipping at his ear. "Open your eyes, Reeve," he commanded, lifting his eyes as well.

Amber eyes shuttered open and their gazes immediately met in the reflection. But what made it more arousing was that if he concentrated, Reeve could see just beyond to the sea. Romance and erotica intertwined in that moment making his arousal spike again. Reno chose that moment to take up the pace, his hand moving in a faster rhythm.

A moan slid from the president's mouth as he arched into each thrust, his nerves tingling with need. Their bodies surged in tandem then, soft gasps filling the room and sweat beading on their skin. Reno's gaze was drawn by the flex and stretch of his husband's muscles as he held onto the window. Reeve himself felt incredibly possessed, and overwhelming feel of love sweeping through him.

There was no where else he would rather be at the moment.

Reno buried his face in Reeve's neck, breathing in his husband's familiar scent as he reveled in the emotions of belonging. He could feel his end approaching, washing over him with the force of a tsunami. Reeve clenched around him, obviously on the precipice as well.

"I love you," Reno whispered, warm breath ghosting over his husband's ear. He knew it was the sort of thing that turned romantic Reeve on the most.

Sure enough. Reeve moaned, eyes falling closed as he let his head slip back to rest on his husband's shoulder. He gave in to the need racketing his body, shuddering and spilling into Reno's hand. The Turk followed not long after, drawn in by the abandon on Reeve's face and the clenching heat of his body.

The married couple panted as they slumped together in front of the window, Reno's hand dropping to join the other at his lover's belly. Reeve's hands settled on top, intermingling their fingers, though sticky a few were as they shared a lazy, postsex kiss.

"I love it when you do that," Reeve murmured, having completely forgotten about their current location.

A smug grin curled at Reno's lips. "I know." He lazily slid his tongue into his husband's mouth, initiating another steamy and slow kiss.

"We'll need another shower," Reeve mused aloud after a moment, opening his eyes once more and gazing out the window.

"Mmmm." Reno didn't seem that inclined to move, making a non-committal sound in his throat.

They simply stood together a few instants more, bodies slowly coolly until Reeve broke the quiet.

"You stained my carpet," he stated, glancing briefly down at the wine splashed on the floor.

Reno barked out laughter, knocking his forehead against Reeve's shoulder. "If I promise to scrub out the wine stain later, can we move to a bed now?"

"What happened to the shower?"

The Turk leered, rocking his hips forward illustratively. "Why bother cleaning up when we're just goin' to get dirty again, yo?"

Reeve shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I'm sure you can think of something," Reno began seductively, grinding gently against his husband's rather attractive backside.

"Hmm? What was that?" Reeve responded, pretending as if he hadn't been listening. "Sorry. I was too busy imagining you on your hands and knees."

The Turk couldn't but laugh as he bit down on Reeve's shoulder playfully and pulled apart from him, leaning to swipe the towel off the floor. "I've corrupted you," he commented with some measure of glee, wiping his fingers off on the damp cloth.

Reeve turned, eyes dark pools in the dimness of the the room. "The same could be said of you," he countered as Reno rubbed the towel over his belly. "Marriage. Kids. Why, you're becoming a regular joe."

The damp cloth was thrown to the floor, Reno deftly avoiding Reeve's look of reproach. "Yell later. Right now, we've better things to do."

"I have a meeting in five hours."

"Plenty of time."

Reno's hand shot out and snagged his husband, dragging him in for another steamy and heated kiss, though it was more slow and languid. A gentle exploration. "Remember. In a month, we won't have all this free time."

"Mmm. But she'll be worth it. My perfect family." Reeve smiled warmly, something in his heart feeling fit to burst. "You, me..."

The Turk shook his head. "... and baby makes three, I know."

"I'm scared of how well you understand me."

"Comes with the territory, yo. S'price you pay for loving me."

Reeve vaguely and briefly wondered sometimes if he were being punished. "Can I get a refund?" he jokingly replied, raking a hand through his hair as he headed towards the bedroom. He knew Reno would follow him.

"Sorry. No returns allowed."

* * *

a/n: Sorry about the slow updates guys. My Shattered muse is simply beyond exhausted right now. After all these fics, it's plain tired. Not to mention my Bleach muse is realllllly loud right now and they seem to be more popular anyways so this gets sort of pushed to the back burner.

But! I never abandon a fic. So it _will_ be finished. This I can promise.

I look forward to your feedback. Thanks!


	9. A Cold, Hard Rain

a/n: Sorry for the long wait. My FF7 muse is being beaten up by my Bleach muse and hasn't been cooperating. I hope you enjoy!

**Shattered Children – Chapter Five**

**A Cold, Hard Rain**

The wind whipped around him, buffeting at his clothes and trying to infect him with its chill. It tossed his hair in his face but Sephiroth didn't pay that any attention. He simply hunched his shoulders against the biting weather and stared with even more resolution at the memorial in front of him.

He found himself coming here more and more frequently, to the high bluff overlooking Fort Condor where he and the others had placed a memorial to someone very important to them all. They didn't have anything to bury of Cloud. The best they could offer was a stone marker and a sword, similar in style to the blond's, thrust in the ground behind the grey rock etched with his name and length of life.

Sephiroth didn't think it was nearly enough for a man who had given everything. For the longest time, Cloud had suffered and it was rather cruel of the gods to take away his happiness once he finally had it. Gilgamesh had tried to explain it to Sephiroth, but he didn't feel like listening to heavenly bullshit. The blame was his and he knew it, he didn't need anyone trying to tell him otherwise.

"You put your trust in me," Sephiroth murmured, speaking not to himself but to an empty memorial. If anyone else were watching, they probably would think him mad. But he was alone, as he had wanted. There was no one to witness it.

"I think that perhaps that might have been a mistake on your part."

He shifted his gaze to the side, thinking of the crater filled with battered buildings that was what remained of Midgar. Weeds and other vegetation were gradually starting to encroach but humans skirted the place. It was where Cloud had made his home and where he had given his life. It was the place Sephiroth should have protected and didn't.

"I think that maybe you chose the wrong hero to believe in," he added, a brief smile flickering to his lips at the memory that had finally chosen to return, reminding him of the bits of happiness he had in the past.

"_Zack," Sephiroth sighed with exasperation, looking at the First-Class SOLDIER who had somehow morphed himself into his best friend. "You know that I can't. It would look as if I am favoring a cadet." _

_From his perch on the General's desk, the dark-haired man tried his famous pout that Sephiroth had proven time and time again he was already immune to. "Just this once?" he pleaded, fluttering his eyelashes. "The kid practically worships you. And he's not that bad except his confidence could use a boost." _

"_I'm not here to boost confidences," Sephiroth reminded him, pausing next to his desk to lift a paper and scan the contents absentmindedly. "ShinRa doesn't need a soldier too afraid to lift his sword in combat." _

_Zack rolled his eyes, scoffing. "You're just spitting ShinRa back at me, buddy. You don't believe that bullshit anymore than I do." _

"_It's the truth," Sephiroth insisted before waving the document under his friend's nose. "Isn't there someplace you should be?" he asked pointedly, shoving it towards his best friend. _

_Scowling, Zack snagged the paper from the General's hands. "You're positively evil," he countered, though coming from him it sounded affectionate. He then gave one last-ditch effort. "Come on, Seph. Meet him. What could it hurt?"_

_Sephiroth shot Zack a look that spoke volumes without him having to open his mouth at all. It wasn't quite the cold glare that could make half an army quiver in its boots but it was effective enough. And almost playful, if Zack dared call it that. _

_The shorter male held up his hands and backed towards the door. "Fine, fine. I'll stop pushing." He reached behind him and put one hand on the knob, turning it. "But don't forget. Cloud Strife! He's in Bunk D." _

"_Zack," Sephiroth warned, slipping around his desk. _

"_Got it!" Zack chirped with a sloppy salute. "Off to train the kiddies. See ya, Seph." He slipped out the door as energetically as he had entered, closing it shut behind him. _

_Sephiroth shook his head and lowered himself into his seat, powering up his computer with a simple press of the button. The machine zoomed to life with a speed that always surprised him and before long, he was checking his in box, scanning missives from the other departments. There was another request from Heidegger, but nothing a Second-Class couldn't handle. _

_Dr. Hojo was insisting on another follow-up, Sephiroth pretended he hadn't seen it. He knew there was only so long he could avoid the greasy-haired man but the more time he put between now and then the better. _

_He sifted through some of the paperwork on his desk, all of the boring accouterments that went with being General of ShinRa's army. He hadn't ever realized how stifling the silence in his office was, never really paid any attention to it. But with Zack's energy gone, it was almost... dead. _

_And he couldn't deny that he was considering it, as an excuse to get out of his office. He had to admit he was curious about the young man that Zack had taken a liking to. _

_Sephiroth sighed and reached for his phone, dialing Diana, Heidegger's secretary since he had no desire to speak to the horsey man himself. She picked up, efficient as always, on the first ring._

"_Where are the cadets today?" he asked, leaving no room for pleasantries. _

_There was no hesitation in her response, well-accustomed to his clipped demands. "At the training center, General, sir." _

"_Thank you." He hung up the phone without another word and contemplated for just a few minutes more. What could it hurt to at least take a look? Nothing, truthfully. And as General, it was only part of his duties to examine the recruits. _

_With that decided, Sephiroth rose to his feet and headed out of his office. The sounds of the compound immediately assaulted him as if his door had been some sort of barrier against civilization and life. Orders being relayed. Wooden swords striking one another. Hand-to-hand combat. Mechanical work on the many vehicles. _

_He was surrounded by ShinRa. _

_Luckily, he wasn't that far from the training grounds and arrived relatively quickly, hovering on the edges near the shadows so as not to be noticed. He didn't want to deal with any fans or sycophantic lower officers. Instead, bright green eyes casually scanned the practicing cadets, looking for the one his best friend had described. _

_And then he saw him. Just a tiny thing. Blond hair, big blue eyes, almost looked like a girl. He was sparring against another cadet nearly twice his size and getting his ass handed to him in no gentle manner. Sephiroth watched the boy get knocked down three times, striking the dusty dirt harshly and coming up again each time, wiping away the blood and charging again. _

_Over and over, the cycle continued. Despite having bloody fingers and bloody lips and black bruises, the boy kept rising. _

_Determination. _

_Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have something so hopeful as that. He didn't have determination. He did what he was told. He was strong enough that it didn't matter. He didn't care what happened to himself. He didn't need determination. _

_A thoughtful, slightly disturbed look crossed over the General's face as he turned and headed back to his office, troubled by the thoughts. He didn't know what Zack expected from him. _

Sephiroth shook his head, sighing softly at the memory as he looked at the huge sword, one he would have never believed Cloud capable of even lifting. But he supposed that the mako and the experiments did much in making that possible. He never would have wished his fate on anyone else.

"I'm surprised I remember that," Sephiroth commented. "They're coming a lot more lately, the memories, I mean. I think I finally remember who you are."

The part of what he was to Cloud remained unsaid, that ever present current of confusion that had finally been laid to rest.

"_I don't see what you see in him," Sephiroth told Zack as they walked away from the mess, having just eaten. He had to choke down his food and it gurgled unpleasantly in his belly. "He's too small for his age. All those in his recruitment class are almost twice his size." _

_Zack was adamant. "But he has potential!" the other SOLDIER declared with a thumbs-up and a smile. Then he paused and peered at his friend. "So you did go and see him?" _

_The General rolled his eyes, a decidedly juvenile response, but Zack tended to bring that out in him. "I did not speak to him if that is what you are asking. I merely wanted to see what had inspired you to plead to me." _

_The other male snorted in his usual fashion. "I don't believe you," he replied before abruptly changing the subject. "We have a mission coming up, don't we? To Nibelheim?" _

_Sephiroth was quick to sense what his friend was alluding to. "No, Zack." _

"_But you were ordered to bring a few cadets with you, weren't you?" Zack wheedled in his best pleading tone that promised it would eventually turn to whining. "Since it would be so easy and all. Why not take him?" _

"_Must I bring up the favoritism point again?" _

_Zack pursed his lips and suddenly darted in front of the General, attempting to look stern as he planted both hands on his hips. "How long have I known you?" he demanded. _

_The pride of ShinRa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Longer than I think my sanity can handle sometimes." _

"_Exactly!" the younger man declared as if Sephiroth had truly made some valid point. "So I believe that entitles me to a favor or two." _

_Sephiroth peered through his fingers. "Twenty," he corrected. "This would be the twentieth favor you have asked me for." _

"_Ah, come on, Seph – wait, you kept count?" _

_The General shook his head and stepped past his idiotic friend. "I don't have the patience to deal with you today. My brain is already hurting from the foolishness," he muttered under his breath knowing that Zack wouldn't even take offense to his dismissal. That sort of thing rolled off the other man's back like water. _

_He managed to count to three before Zack caught up to him. "All I'm saying is, let him come. It will make his day. He worships you." _

"_So do half the recruits we bring in every day." _

"_Cloud's different," Zack insisted, crystalline blue eyes practically brimming with his determination. This was one topic he wasn't going to let die easily. "He l-- he wants to be just like you." _

_Sephiroth sighed. What was it about Zack? Taking in broken humans like one took in discarded pets? Anyone would take one look at Sephiroth and the frosty, powerful exterior that he was and turn their noses. Plenty had, out of fear or respect or self-preservation, he didn't know. But no one in their right mind ever dared make a friend out of him. Until Zack came along, proving that he was not entirely untouchable. _

"_He should have higher aspirations than to become me," Sephiroth muttered, feeling that old bitterness for his lot in life creeping up on him again. "I wouldn't wish my existence on anyone." _

_Wisely, his friend chose silence over more pleadings as they headed back towards the dorms and by proxy, Sephiroth's quarters. With tentative plans to train, retrieving the Masamune was necessary. After all, Sephiroth had promised Zack he would spar with him and well... he would get that kicked puppy look if he broke his promise. _

_Sometimes, Zack could make him feel guilty without doing anything at all. There were times that Sephiroth wondered if he wasn't just a bit in love with his best friend. But considering that he didn't even know the meaning of the word, he thought maybe his assumption was a bit absurd. _

_Still, he trusted Zack... and whatever Zack thought to bring his way. _

_Finally, Sephiroth inhaled quietly. "I will meet him." _

_The other SOLDIER's eyes lit up immediately but Sephiroth held up a hand to stop the inevitable glomping. "I didn't say he would come on the mission, but I will, at least, meet with him." _

_Zack grinned, a slow sliding and knowing curve of his lips. "You won't regret it." _

Blinking out of that vivid memory, Sephiroth shook his head, fingers curling into a fist. "I should have," he claimed to the air, the wind ruffling his hair in his face and bringing with it a slight chill. "I should regret it. I never should have brought you along. Either of you. Sometimes I even wonder if Hojo didn't plan it that way, knowing how close Zack was getting to his experiment."

A stab of pain suddenly shot through his left arm, piercing and blazing bullets. He winced, right hand automatically gripping where the Geostigma pulsed and throbbed beneath his touch. It felt as if needles were stabbing into him, a set of thin, fine teeth chomping through his flesh. The pain radiated from his arm up along his back, causing him to hunch slightly as he rode out the tremors.

It was coming more and more often these days, the pain intensifying with each attack. The stigma itself was spreading at faster rate as well. He didn't know how much longer he would be allowed to live. And every time it awoke, he heard _her_ voice, the one he had been trying to block out constantly with little success.

He could feel her in his veins, whispering sibilantly across his mind. A continuous call to her side. A continuous litany of murmurs that he couldn't ignore. He even heard her in his dreams, saw her beckoning, watched as she showed him all the reasons he should hate the humans.

'They were family,' Jenova would tell him. She belonged with him and he with her and they with those that were like him, with those that understood.

He was doing his best to block her out, but a part of him didn't want to. Because the pain also brought with it memories that had been previously forgotten. Though he hated the nightmares he suffered, he was grateful for every cherished remembrances. They were enough to give him strength to fight just a bit more.

_The slim, rather short soldier twitched, hiding behind Zack and yet trying to be bold and stand up straight. It was slightly amusing to Sephiroth and he rose to his feet, shooting his friend a bemused look. Cloud was incredibly skinny and small, pretty much feminine in appearance. _

_Yet, his big blue eyes were looking up at Sephiroth with such admiration that even the General was momentarily taken aback. He was used to receiving stares of awe and appreciation, of being on the receiving end of lust and desire. But this... he couldn't begin to describe the look in Cloud's eyes. It was so innocent and pure, but yet also needy and desperate. It was so much more than the deadness he saw in his own gaze. _

_It threw him entirely off balance. _

_He tore his eyes away from the young recruit and forced them on his best friend. "When I said that I would meet with him, I didn't mean within the next twenty minutes," Sephiroth responded dryly. _

_Zack shrugged as if he hadn't heard Sephiroth speak at all. _

_Meanwhile, Cloud managed to both gasp and gape all at the same time. "You asked him?" he demanded the younger first-class, momentarily forgetting his fear and admiration for sake of his indignation. "Zack!" _

_The dark-haired man grinned and ruffled Cloud's hair, messing up blond spikes. "Ah, come on, Spike. Don't be mad. I did it for you." _

_Sephiroth recognized that placating tone. It was one Zack had used on him often enough. _

_A blush burned high on the cadet's cheek. "You know that I..." he trailed off, looking with embarrassment at Sephiroth from the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry, General, sir. I-- I didn't know." _

_He waved him off. "I'm sure we both have someone to blame for it," he responded, staring pointedly at Zack who appeared much too full of himself and not the least bit repentant. _

"_You'll both be thanking me later," Zack assured them, ruffling Cloud's hair again though the cadet ducked out from it with an ease that proved he had done it often. _

"_Zack!" He was scowling, finally showing some of that backbone that Zack had always claimed he had. _

_The younger first-class simply laughed and winked at Sephiroth, far too proud of himself. _

For the first time in a long while, Sephiroth allowed a smile to flit onto his lips. It all seemed so simple then, despite what he was suffering from then. Moments of happiness before everything exploded around them in a sea of flames and ShinRa betrayal.

He could remember Cloud with greater ease now and it was easier to recognize the look he had seen in bright blue eyes for what it was. Unrivaled devotion and admiration, all mixed with an adolescent crush that somehow grown into love. Sephiroth still couldn't understand how one could love like that.

"I didn't deserve it," he murmured softly, releasing his throbbing arm and reaching out, brushing his fingers lightly across the hilt of the sword. "Nor would I have even known what to do with it."

The metal was cool to the touch, rough from constant use and still just a bit stained. Sephiroth let his hand drop back down to his side.

"I won't fail again," he commented, something a bit like determination alighting in his eyes. "I'll protect them. No matter what it costs me."

With that, he turned away from the memories and headed back towards Odin, planning on returning to Rocket Town where he owed Denzel a visit. And perhaps he might even find it in him to make amends with Tseng. He didn't know how much longer he had after all, thanks to the Geostigma.

Best to use well what time he had left.

* * *

The smell of old parchment, musty and covered with dust, floated thickly in the air, causing Tseng to wrinkle his nose in disgust. He hated the basement of the ShinRa mansion, from his first memories of the place, to even now. Just stepping foot in the building that had been a cause of pain for many of his friends was enough to send his mood dipping downwards, despite the presence of the children.

It would have been too easy for them to find Sephiroth but he supposed he couldn't begrudge their hope. After a brief check of the entire abandoned lab, they had determined that the former General wasn't there. But that didn't stop the two young ones from wanting to wait, if only for a bit. Tseng allowed it, taking the opportunity to rifle through a few stacks of old journals and reports in hopes of discovering what, exactly, Sephiroth was looking for.

He supposed if he were that desperate to discover Sephiroth's location he could always use the tracer. But a part of him wanted an excuse to stick his nose in Sephiroth's research, trying to find what had been haunting his lover.

A fresh wave of pain assaulted Tseng, skating across the front of his mind, reminding him precisely how difficult it was becoming to hold up his shields against the plethora of unpleasant memories lingering around the mansion basement.

He snapped the journal he was scanning with a snort of disgust and moved to slide it back on the shelf, his fingers brushing across a few other spines.

_'I can't take anymore. Let the darkness consume me. What... voices?'_

Tseng jerked, his fingers recoiling as thoughts that weren't his own invaded his mind. Here in the basement, where there was so much sadness and hatred and loathing and darkness, it was so much easier for them to pierce through. He hated it, hated them, hated Hojo. It churned his stomach, leaving him dizzy and out of sorts.

He had nearly snapped at Marlene when she touched him on the arm. Just a bare grasp and he had snatched his hand away as if she were poison. The look of hurt and confusion in her eyes nearly made him come undone.

_Gleaming off the pale light. Bitter and acrid odor. Water dripping in a far corner, the only sound to pierce the night surrounding him. _

There was so much pain in this building that he wanted to do nothing more than burn it to ground, destroying all the agonizing ghosts with it. He wanted to erase all the proof of Hojo's dementia.

Tseng chanced a glance at the children, just to assure himself of their safety. The basement wasn't the best place for them to be after all. But they were playing some sort of game in the corner, something with a bouncing ball and small metal spikes. He thought he recognized it as something Elena had given them a while back.

Then he heard it. The creak of hinges, the sound of booted feet on crumbling and cracking stone, echoing in an dusty, empty hallway. Someone was coming their way.

With the naivety that only children could possess, both Marlene and Denzel jerked to their feet, the joy in the boy's face almost painful to see. "Sephiroth!" he exclaimed, scrambling towards the doorway in an attempt to meet his adoptive father.

Tseng's senses prickled, a sense of dread trickling down his spine. He didn't think that Sephiroth was the one that was coming.

Before either of them could get past him, his arms shot out and he grabbed both children, pulling them back towards him despite their protests. It was just in time. The door shot open, nearly slamming against the wall behind it as a man Tseng did not recognize stepped into laboratory.

He sucked in a breath, however, at the stranger's appearance. He could have been Sephiroth's younger brother with the same startling green eyes and silver hair. The Turk's every sense screamed danger.

Tseng straightened and abruptly pushed both Denzel and Marlene behind them, towards the long hallway that connected towards the small room that served as an office. "Get back," he ordered under his breath, stepping in front of their startled forms.

"B-but," Denzel tried to protest, his eyes flickering past the Wutaiian and towards the stranger.

Silver eyes were hard as they glanced over his shoulder. "Do it," Tseng repeated, his tone leaving little for argument.

Blinking in his distress, Denzel merely jerked his head in a nod and backed towards the hall, dragging Marlene with him.

Their interaction, however, attracted the stranger's attention, causing the man to swivel his head in Tseng's direction. A grin stretched across his lips. "Wanna play?" he asked, oddly enough, gesturing with a black, gloved hand towards the Turk Commander.

Confusion flooded the Turk as his blood began to run cold.

The stranger stepped forward and his boots crunched on something, likely a fallen test tube. He looked down, lifting a foot to stare at the smashed object. A grimace marred his otherwise attractive face.

"Eh?"

Silver eyes narrowed as Tseng's hand dropped near his Tenken. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice echoing in the basement. His distaste for the strange man made him wary.

"I guess that's a no," the other man responded, disregarding the Turk's query and thumbing his nose. "Then, where's Mother?"

He barely bit back on his gasp. Mother? Was this man looking for Jenova? Did this have anything to do with what he had sent Zack and Elena to check out at the crater?

"There's no one here," Tseng replied slowly, regaining control of himself. "You should leave." His fingers curled around the hilt of Kasai Tenken(1).

The stranger tapped his chin as if considering before the grin on his face widened. "Umm, no! Nii-chan wouldn't like it if I left without having a little fun."

Tseng didn't like the sound of that one bit. He took a step forward, prompting Marlene to gasp behind him. "Stay back!" he reiterated before drawing both weapons in a smooth motion and darting forward. Best to make a preemptive strike after all.

The other man cracked his knuckles and a silver blur suddenly flashed forward. Swords met gauntlet with a fierce clang that rattled up the Turk's arm. He didn't wait for a battle of strength, choosing to spin away from his opponent and kick out with an agile foot. The stranger deftly avoided the move, speeding forward with a blinding pace until he abruptly disappeared.

Tseng blinked in utter shock before his opponent suddenly appeared behind him, the whoosh of air his only warning. He whirled to block the attack aimed for his unprotected back, sword meeting fist once more, as he slashed out with Koori Tenken. The attack skirted off of the man's shoulder, slicing through the leather but going no deeper. It had been too shallow and off balance.

Without breaking stride, his opponent merely grinned, his free fist flying forward and slamming into Tseng's lower abdomen. The Turk grunted, stumbling backwards a few steps. Yet, he quickly regained his balance, fingers tightening on his swords as he...

_...screamed when the needle poked through his skin with a harsh jab, shoving more and more of the burning liquid into his veins. He wanted to cry 'stop' but he couldn't because his voice had long gone hoarse from prior screaming. But it hurt so much._

"_Loz!" _

_He heard his brother call for him, tears thick in his voice. He had to protect him, but he couldn't break free. He couldn't get to him. He couldn't do anything. _

_A palm slammed into the side of his head, rattling his thoughts. It was a silent demand for him to be still as..._

... a fist suddenly slammed into Tseng's stomach, throwing all the air out of him in a single blow. The Wutaiian staggered, attempting to blink away the sudden assault of memory.

Loz. His opponent's name was Loz.

"Mr. Tseng!" He heard Marlene call his name as a fresh wave of pain assaulted his senses.

His heart skipped a beat in fear that she would dive into the fray and put herself in danger. "Stay back!" he practically screamed, a cough immediately following. He struggled to regain his breath, absently wiping blood from where had bitten his lip.

Of all times for his shields to fall, now was the absolute worst. He couldn't concentrate against the influx of memories and emotions. It made his mind spin and even at that moment, he had to blink away a dizzy haze.

Loz didn't seem to care that his opponent was struggling. He merely smirked and cracked his knuckles, his voice a mockery of Tseng's skills. "Hardly a challenge," he scoffed and darted forward, eating the few steps between in the blink of an eye.

Tseng managed to get his arm up in time to stop the first blow, though it jarred his arm. He forced himself to fight through the churning in his gut, nimbly shooting under Loz's broad reach and for once, grateful for his smaller stature. He twisted Kasai Tenken upwards, managing to cut a rather deep slice across his opponent's cheek when Loz avoided a killing blow at the loss possible second. Blood welled up immediately but Tseng didn't bother to stick around and see. He quickly darted out of Loz's reach with a sharp backleap.

The Sephiroth look-a-like wasn't willing to let his prey escape, however. Using that same odd flash-step as before, he appeared in front of Tseng with a barrage of fists. A rapid succession of blows, sword to gauntlet, quickly followed with rattling clangs. The Turk was pushed backwards against Loz's greater strength.

His hips collided with a desk, rattling it hard enough to cause something to crash to the ground and shatter, spilling a viscous, green liquid...

.._. all around him, trying to swallow him whole. He hated the burning pain, the constant prickle as he breathed it in without somehow drowning. It made his stomach churn and his eyes burn. _

_He could see out of his glass prison, see that damned creep scientist puttering around, could see Zack trapped in the same way as he. It kept fading in and out but he knew, he knew what true agony was. There was nothing he could do. Not for Zack. And not to save himself from the..._

...sudden ringing in his ears as he was thrown against a bookcase, shelves collapsing in a spray of dust. Tseng crumpled to the floor, books crashing down on top of him painfully. Laughter echoed in the basement as he panted, struggling to rise to his feet.

"Ah!" Tseng gasped as his shoulder abruptly jerked, fire racing through his arms. Something felt as if it had snapped and he lost his grip on Koori Tenken, the sword clattering to the floor. He thought that maybe he had dislocated his shoulder, but he couldn't be sure.

Still, he couldn't afford to let himself be beaten. Marlene and Denzel were counting on him. Gritting his teeth against the pain and foregoing use of his other sword, Tseng staggered from the bookcase.

Loz had simply been standing there, watching him with amusement writ into painfully familiar features. "Oh?" the man said, turning back towards hiim with another crack of his joints. "Not dead yet? I'll have to fix that."

Tseng's head jerked up at that proclamation, and he threw out a spell without thinking. Flare exploded in Loz's face and the stranger stumbled, coughing in the resulting blaze and smoke. Without regard to his own pain, Tseng darted forward, slashing at Loz with his sword.

The other man jerked back to avoid it, the tip of the blade just managing to cut through the leather and barely bite into the flesh beneath. Without pausing to assess damage, Tseng gestured and cast again, an Aero ripping angrily through the basement. The winds slammed into Loz, knocking him from his feet and throwing him backwards. He collided with a large glass tube, still full of a gurgling green liquid. It abruptly shattered and he landed amongst the debris, liquid spilling all around him.

Adrenaline rush gone, Tseng shuddered and suddenly dropped to one knee. He was barely able to hold onto his sword as the full extent of his injuries attacked him all at once, other arm hanging limply on his side.

"Mr. Tseng!" The pitter-patter of feet as both children rushed to his hide, heedless of the danger.

He ground his teeth. "I'm fine," Tseng gritted out, despite the swirl of memories pounding through his skull. He tried to rise on a shaky knee. "We need to get out of here."

Marlene's big, brown eyes were swimming with concern. "But your arm..."

"I'll be fine." He was running out of energy to encourage them and wishing whole-heartedly that he had picked something a bit more than attack magic. A Heal would really come in handy about now. "Denzel, can you get my sword?"

The boy nodded, his eyes still wide with fear, and turned towards the bookcase. But he only managed two steps before a sound pierced the silence, causing him to pause mid-stride. It was a phone ringing and Tseng knew the obnoxious noise wasn't his PHS.

Silver eyes shifted towards the destruction, only to blink in shock as Loz rose from the ground, calmly brushing glass from his leather. He seemed none the worse for wear except for a small cut on his forehead. One hand was even digging into his pocket to pull out his phone, seemingly ignoring the others in the room.

"Yo?... She's not here... I'm not crying!"

The Turk felt an even greater urge to be suddenly absent. He backed away, uncertainty rising strong within. Both children drew near to him, the search for his sword forgotten. Was Loz just as unstoppable as Sephiroth had been once? Or, worse, was he even stronger?

Like a predator sensing the eminent escape of his prey, mako green eyes swung their way. "I understand. I'll bring them back."

Loz flipped his phone shut and stalked towards Tseng, the Wutaiian automatically drawing both Marlene and Denzel behind him protectively. He grasped the Kasai Tenken, trying to push away the pain radiating from his other shoulder.

"Let's continue," Loz suggested playfully and suddenly drew the weapon from the sheath on his thigh, one that Tseng hadn't even noticed.

To his surprise, the bladed thing was actually a gun.

Choking back his cry of shock, Tseng raised his sword and blocked the bullet. He quickly tossed out a spell in counter-attack, but it completely bypassed Loz, the other man flash-stepping forwards. A flare exploded against the wall behind Loz as he jerked his fist forward, slamming it and the gauntlet attached to it into Tseng's gut. Breath whooshed out of the Turk and before he could draw another, something on that gauntlet snapped out and electricity raced through his entire body.

He choked on empty air, neck snapping as the pain struck him full force, most of his nerves short-circuiting.

"Mr. Tseng!"

Through a haze of agony, he couldn't distinguish one child from the other. His knees weakened beneath him and he crumpled, only to draw up short when leather-covered fingers wrapped around his throat. Loz' other hand reached for his katana, snapping the blade in a ridiculously easy motion. Tseng didn't even have time to mourn the loss before the pieces were being tossed carelessly to the side. That... that weapon was irreplaceable. There was none other like it on Gaia!

A sudden surge of anger granted him strength. He lifted a leg, kicking out at Loz and managing to strike him in the side. Loz grunted and tightened his grip on Tseng's throat, cutting off his meager air supply. His free hand found Tseng's injured shoulder and gripped tightly, digging into the shattered bone.

The world went white with pain. Tseng screamed, his entire body drawing taut as more than just Loz's attacks warred against him. Now there were images and smells and sights and sounds and feelings that weren't his own. Old pains not related to him. Pains that belonged to Loz, his fear and shame. It rocketed through him to join that of reality.

The Turk's fingers scrabbled uselessly on Loz's arm, trying in vain for release. Tseng couldn't even concentrate enough to summon a spell.

Thwock!

Silver eyes blinked in surprise as something struck Loz upside the head. The man started, turning his attention to the source of his pain. Tseng's blood froze in his veins when he noticed Denzel, determination in the kid's face and his arms filled with materia. How in the hell had the kid gotten it? And where from?

Loz harrumphed and abruptly discarded Tseng.

"No!" the Turk gasped out, trying to scramble forward on a broken shoulder. Until a booted foot slammed into his ribs and he coughed, blood flecking his lips. He watched with horror as Loz turned away from him, advancing on the children.

"Sephiroth..." Denzel murmured, fear filling his brown eyes.

He would not fail him in this!

"Run!" Tseng choked and dragged himself up, throwing a random spell from his arsenal at Loz's back. He didn't care what, so long as it attracted the other man's attention. More blood spilled from his mouth as he hacked, something shifting wetly inside of him.

Ribs. The bastard had broken some of his ribs.

Flare exploded against Loz's back and he whirled, face screwing up with anger. On the edge of hazy, fading vision, Tseng saw the man return his attentions to him. Thank Kami. Despite the dizziness, if the children were safe, then he didn't care what happened to him.

Knees like jelly, Tseng tried to rise to his feet but they refused to obey his order. Loz drew closer, cracking his knuckles.

_...Someone. Please save me. Anyone..._

A thought not his own. A scared child from years past.

And then the darkness hit.

* * *

"It's going to rain soon."

Reis looked up as she finished the last strains of one of her favorite pieces, lowering her bow and violin so that she didn't strain herself. "You think so?" she asked her visitor, the young man perched so comfortably on the edge of the roof.

She had worried at first that he would fall off. But he always seemed to have perfect balance, even when the winds were at their strongest. She didn't question his affinity for high places, considering it was the first place they had met. Besides there was something of alluring interest about this man, despite the fact that he was so obviously younger than her, though not by much.

He nodded, draping one leg over the edge and balancing his arm on his knee, tilting his head up to the sky. "The sky smells of thunder."

Reis grinned, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "You sound like an old man when you say things like that."

He turned towards her, green eyes surprisingly soft. "Not too old I hope."

She shook her head, setting her bow on the music stand and reaching down for her violin case. "I can't even guess," she commented, placing her prized instrument back into its case. If it was going to rain, she didn't want to risk it getting even the slightest bit damp.

"I haven't seen you in awhile."

Yazoo shrugged elegantly, long strands of silver hair sliding over a shoulder. "I've been keeping busy."

"With your brothers right?" she asked, seeking confirmation.

She knew that Yazoo had no family except for his two siblings, one younger and one older, but had only met Kadaj as of recently. Thus the reason she, out of all the others, was the only one who knew of Archer's secret.

Truth be told, she had only known the man for about three months, not long after giving birth to Revan. For relaxation purposes, Reis had taken to playing her violin on the roof top, letting the wind carry away her music. Sometimes her brother and his husband came to listen to her, but mostly, she cherished the solitude.

It was one such time when she had played the last strands of _Oceano_ that she heard the quiet sounds of clapping. Reis had turned to see a stranger perched on the ledge, watching her intently. At the time, she had assumed the young man was working for her brother and the WRO. It wasn't until later that he had explained he was merely passing by and had climbed up the fire escape.

He called her a siren, luring him with her beautiful music.

It was probably the first time Reis could remember every blushing so brightly.

Since then, he stopped by from time to time, listening to her play or engaging in idle chatter. She had even gone to lunch with him a few times, finding Yazoo to be both charming and intelligent. That he resembled Sephiroth had never really struck her as something to be concerned about.

Yazoo made a noncommittal sound in his throat, drawing her attention back towards him. "Un. Family matters you could say," he responded, answering her earlier question.

She smiled, thinking of her brother and little Revan. "I understand completely." Reis tilted her head upwards, gazing at the sky and the cloud's rapidly gathering. "Since a storm is coming, you'll give me a hand carrying my things inside?" The wind was picking up in intensity, cold and refreshing as it whooshed against her face.

He looked over at her and nodded, sliding gracefully from the ledge in one movement. His booted feet didn't even make a sound against the cement as the leather creaked slightly. The change in attire had surprised her at first, since before he usually dressed casually, but she hadn't asked any questions. It wasn't any of her business.

"Grab the stand and chair for me, please," she ordered efficiently, swinging her violin case over one shoulder.

She gathered up her music sheets in her free hand, inwardly glad that she wouldn't be forced to make several trips. The air was beginning to smell thickly of rain. He shrugged, reaching to fold down the stand as he had seen her do many times before.

"Do you boss your brother around as well?" he asked teasingly. She had told him of a bit of her family but left out all the details, just as he had done for her. It was a strange game they were playing, sharing and leaving out so much of the truths.

Reis smiled and shook her head, holding the roof door open so that he could precede her since his burdens were more unwieldy and bulky. "I'm the youngest," she answered, her voice echoing in the stairwell. "It's only fair. Since he was born first and all."

"Youngest. Oldest. I wouldn't know," Yazoo responded, his tone almost wistful as he followed her down the stairs. "I've always been stuck in the middle."

"The middle's not so bad," Reis responded, winking at him over her shoulder as she added, "it just depends on what you're stuck between."

The faint blush that stained his cheeks was quite endearing and well worth her rather bold attempt at teasing.

They hit the landing then and she shoved open the door with her hips, gesturing for him to follow after her onto the topmost floor. She had insisted on getting the highest floor while allowing Reeve and his family and his job to take the one below. She had wanted to be the closest to the roof since it was her favorite place to practice without worrying about bothering other residents.

They emerged into a small room which led directly into what was essentially her living room. A massive window lined one entire hall, giving her a clear view of the sea and Junon while the kitchen could be seen through a wide bar lining another wall. To their left, a hallway stretched with her bedroom and bathroom while a smaller corridor led to the front entryway and door. It was more than suitable for her tastes.

"You can set that stuff down anywhere," Reis directed as she stepped into her living room, laying her violin case very carefully on the fluff of her favorite chair, perched very near to the large window. The music sheets, however, she laid on top of the piano which was set up on a small platform in direct view of the window. The instrument was a Baby Grand, a recent gift from her brother, and one of her absolute favorites.

Yazoo did as instructed, his boots silenced by the thick carpet as he set her folded up chair against the wall and put her music stand beside it. "I didn't know you had a piano," he commented, tucking a loose strand of hair from his face behind his ear.

Considering that he had never set foot inside her apartment, it was a valid observation. Their encounters had never gone further than the rooftop or the occasional trip to the coffee shop where she had come to learn he had quite the sweet tooth. She often asked him if he'd like any coffee with his sugar.

"Violin isn't the only instrument I know," Reis responded with a smile, sliding into the glossy seat with ease. Deft fingers lifted up the corner, setting it back into its groove. Black and white keys gleamed up at her, already well used but still shining like new.

Yazoo hovered near, beside the seat but not taking it. His gaze flickered over the piano. "What else?" the man asked, his fingers trailing over the top of the instrument, almost longingly.

She watched him carefully before answering, tapping her chin in thought. "Hmm. Flute. Cello." Reis made a face of distaste. "Harp," she added, thinking of the stringed contraption her mother had forced on her.

The doctor then scooted over, making room on the bench. She patted the empty space beside her, a silent request for him to take the seat.

Something flickered in green eyes before he lowered himself into the seat, watching her movements intently. Smiling, Reis lifted her fingers and placed them on the keys, beginning to play something soft and sultry, one of her favorite pieces.

"I blank out when I play piano," she explained after a moment, her fingers moving almost mindlessly over the black and white keys. "I don't really have to think about it anymore. But the motions are comforting."

Silence settled between them as she let her mind wander, her fingers mindlessly continuing the soft tune, not unlike a lullaby. Then, to her surprise, hands rose, slowly and almost tentatively, to join her on the keys. It was a perfect complement to her tune.

Reis blinked, ceasing her movements in surprise. He stopped almost immediately but she encouraged him with a look and he continued as she folded her own hands in her lap. With her song missing, he gradually altered his playing to become a more dominant tune, a bit mournful but nonetheless beautiful.

"You didn't tell me you played," Reis commented with some awe, watching his pale and elegant fingers move in a steady rhythm. The song itself was something she had never heard and he played it without music sheets, causing her to believe it was entirely original.

He was quiet for a moment. "It is not something I usually share," came the quiet response, rife with something unnameable.

"It's beautiful," Reis breathed, ignoring the emotions flittering on the air. Instead, she closed her eyes and took in every rise and fall of the music, letting it flow through her. It was truly a magnificent piece.

From under a fall of silver hair, constantly slipping into his eyes, Yazoo chanced a glance at her. He didn't think he had seen anyone more beautiful.

Abruptly, a sound pierced through the soft tunes and Reis' eyes snapped open in momentary confusion. "Ah, hell," she swore under her breath, her gaze flickering past him to the table where her cell phone laid.

The music cut off as Reis swung her legs over the bench and padded over to the phone, scooping it up. "Tuesti-sensei, here," she chirped into the receiver.

Yazoo was polite enough to attempt not listening as he ran his fingers over the keys one last time before closing the lid. He rose to his feet, slipping on his gloves as his mind briefly returned to the past. To the one gift that woman had left for him.

Tifa had been the one to teach him how to play on a day when she had been bored and he still recovering from what the lab had done to him. It hadn't taken long considering his intelligence. Yazoo'd had a fascination with music ever since, and all she had done was teach him the basics. It was a guilty pleasure of sorts that he didn't dare admit to either of his brothers. Though he had the suspicion he could probably convince Loz.

"I'm sorry, Yazoo," Reis said, disturbing him from his reverie. "One of my patients called and has a bit of an emergency so I have to go."

He glanced at the clock on her wall, Jenova choosing that moment to stir inside of him. She raked across his brain, furious that he had attempted to block him and he barely withheld the outward wince. One gloved hand clenched into a fist but luckily, he was at an angle from Reis and she couldn't see it.

There was something he was supposed to be doing after all, no matter how much he wanted to run from it.

"It's fine," Yazoo responded with a smile dredged up from somewhere, tucking his hair behind his ears once more. "I did barge in on you after all."

Amber eyes studied him for a moment before she smiled and reached for her wrist, sliding something off of it. Reis stepped forward, grabbing his hand and placing something in his palm.

He looked down at the small ring of fabric curiously. "What's this?"

She pointed demonstratively at his head. "Either cut it off or pull it back, hmm? It might help. Though I would hate to see you lose that lovely hair."

Understanding filtered through. "Thanks," he replied, warmed by the sentiment. Yazoo snapped the tie around his wrist for later use.

"No problem." He was quickly becoming attracted to that smile she always seemed so willing to dole out. "You want me to walk you out?"

He shook his head. "No, I'll just..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely behind him towards the roof door. Considering her brother's protectiveness, as she had explained, he didn't want to risk being caught by the man.

"All right. We'll have to catch dinner sometime," Reis said, shrugging into her jacket and sliding her keys into her pocket, visibly in a rush. "Bye, Yazoo."

She was out the door and gone before he could even stop her, his goodbye said to a closed door and an empty apartment.

Yazoo knew he should have said more, maybe even convinced himself to say what he had been holding in his heart as of late. This was probably the last chance he had at true sanity, the last time he could block off the siren before she consumed him completely.

As if agreeing with him, Jenova raked across his brain again, turning his thoughts to a mush of agony. He winced, his gloved hand coming to his forehead in an attempt to stave off the pain. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the bright red tie around his wrist. It was a mild comfort.

Yazoo gritted his teeth. "Yes, Mother," he muttered under his breath.

He bit his lip against her call and glanced one last time at the piano before heading for the roof. It was easier for him to sneak around by using the upper levels.

It had been nice, that sense of normalcy for however short it was. He only wished it didn't have to end that soon.

He wished he could have held onto that dream for just a little while longer.

* * *

a/n: Kasai Tenken Roughly Fire of the Heavens. The other sword is Koori Tenken or Ice of the Heavens.

a/n: I fucking love this chapter. LOL.


	10. Shadow of the Day

a/n: It appears I've fallen to an update once a month. I'm terribly sorry. I've not abandoned this story, and I will never will. But my inspiration for it comes in spurts and bursts. My muse has almost completely been taken over by Bleach. But fear not, I will finish this! And I'll try not to let my updates fall any longer than a month. I promise! I hope I haven't lost my readers...

With that, please enjoy. I left you on a terrible cliffhanger last time and I do apologize.

**Shattered Children: Chapter Six**

**Shadow of the Day****  
**

He intended his stop to be very brief. It had been with some manner of panic that Sephiroth remembered forgetting to lock the mansion basement the last time he had left. There were things down there, truths in Hojo's notes that he didn't want anyone to see. Nor did he want anyone to get their hands on Hojo's research in hopes of repeating it. Like a fool, he had forgotten something as simple as locking the bolts. Thus, the plan to stop only long enough to fix that mistake before heading on to Rocket Town.

Sephiroth parked Odin right outside the front gate, rusted metal creaking as it swung on broken hinges in the cool breeze. It seemed no matter the time of year, Nibelheim was always cold thanks to the buffer provided by the mountains. The town itself was relatively dead. Few, if any, people lived in the homes. Like Midgar, it had become a city no one wanted to visit.

Fighting down lingering memories, Sephiroth stepped up to the front doors and into the mansion. The silence smacked him in the face, along with the stale odor of a building left uncared for. Shadows clung to every corner as cobwebs quietly swayed, wind seeping through cracks in the walls. It still sent a shiver down his spine every time he entered.

He quickly made his way to the second floor and the doorway hidden in one of the rooms, though at this point, everyone knew where it was and it was no longer secret. A touch to the concrete and the panel slid open, revealing the wooden, spiral stairs barely clinging to the moldy sides. He had the feeling it wouldn't be long before they crashed, leaving the basement entirely inaccessible. Not that it would necessarily be a bad thing.

It wasn't until he approached the lab at the far end of the hall that he thought something was wrong. For one, he was certain that he had closed the door when last he left. Two, it was wildly swinging from its hinges, nearly split in two as it splintered inwards. A mild creak echoed in the dark passage.

Eyes narrowing, Sephiroth called his materia to the forefront of his mind, cursing his stupidity in leaving the Murasame on Odin. He crept forward, peering carefully into the musty laboratory. A broken desk, battered equipment, and shattered syringes and vials littered the floor. Books and papers were scattered in all directions. At first glance, however, he saw no sign of anyone else.

Pushing open the swaying door, Sephiroth moved into the lab, sweeping his gaze over the destruction. It looked as if a tornado had whirled through, destroying everything in sight. And then, crumpled at the mouth of the hallway to the small office he spotted a dark-clad form. Seconds later, he recognized the long black hair.

"Tseng!"

The former General wasted no time in crossing the floor, dropping to one knee beside the crumpled Turk. He vaguely registered dried blood stains on the floor before he gently lifted Tseng, the Wutaiian's head lolling slightly on his arms. There were dark bruises already taking form on his face, and several cuts marred his skin.

He supported Tseng's weight with one arm, quickly feeling for a pulse. A slow but steady throbbing beat met his fingers. A hasty glance informed him that the man was breathing, but shallow, breaths rattling wetly in his lungs. He likely had a few broken ribs.

Sephiroth gently cupped Tseng's face in his hand. "Tseng," he urged, wondering if he would even be able to wake the man. He couldn't even start healing unless he knew what all had happened. "Tseng!"

A barely audible groan was his answer. Relief surging through him, Sephiroth tried again. "Tseng! Wake up!"

Silver eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused. "Sephiroth?" he croaked weakly, voice dry and raspy. "What..." he trailed off, eyes suddenly widening as he jerked upwards. "Denzel! Marlene!"

"Wait, calm down," Sephiroth murmured, grabbing the Turk as he suddenly groaned and gripped his head, body shaking from pain. "What about the kids?"

Tseng visibly tried to gain control of himself as he sucked in shallow, heavy breaths, daring to glance around. "They're... they're not here!" he exclaimed before coughing, something shifting wetly again. "He took them?"

Sephiroth blinked. His lover was making very little sense. Someone took the children? But why? And who did this to him?

Suddenly, Tseng winced and hunched over again. "My shoulder," he rasped, reaching with his free hand to touch the injured joint. "I need you to fix it for me."

The former General nodded and gently reached out, fingers pressing against the injured shoulder. Tseng gritted his teeth against the resulting pain, sweat beading on his brow as the agony caused his stomach to churn. Sephiroth winced, not liking what he could feel beneath his fingertips. It was more than just popped out of place. Someone had taken careful pains to completely shatter the bones beneath. It wasn't within his capacity to fix.

"I can't," Sephiroth admitted, removing his hand much to Tseng's relief, allowing the Turk to breathe easier. "It's something that needs Aeris or Reis' expertise. I'm sorry."

"Dammit," the other man cursed through clenched teeth, uninjured fist slamming into the floor. "That bastard." He tipped his gaze, hating to admit that he would have to rely on someone else for what should be his duty. "You'll have to go after them. He can't have gone far, not with two children."

Green-grey eyes blinked. "Who?"

If Tseng answered, Sephiroth did not hear him. In that moment, sheer pain burned through his arm and back and a thin scream slipped through his lips. He curled over, nearly dropping the Turk when he felt his skin ripping and pulling, the piercing stab of agony that was his Geostigma.

Fingers clenched and unclenched. He heard her voice, calling to him, whispering to him. No, not whispers. Not anymore. She was loud enough, her tones clear and concise. They echoed through him. Asking. Telling. Demanding. She was his, her son, her path to destruction.

He belonged to her.

Sephiroth groaned and hunched forward even further, pain throbbing through his arm and back until it felt as if something was trying to force its way through. Like he had seen Vincent all those years ago, Chaos shoving its wings through the ex-Turk's back in a shower of blood and gore. He dimly felt Tseng's hand on him before Tseng gasped, fingers digging tightly into his skin.

Someone was yelling at him. Disappointment in their tone. A failure? He was a failure? Sephiroth couldn't be sure. It felt as if his memories were crashing around him, attacking him with their truth.

He was a monster, just like these creatures in the tanks. He was formed and bred and created. He was unloved. He was beautiful, even when those hands defiled him, hands that should have held him in love. Even when the needles pierced his flesh and he cried, those eyes watched.

_**We will purge this world, **_Jenova claimed, a sibilant, hissing command. _**You and I, together, my son. We will make it our own. **_

He wanted to say no. He had been saying no. He had been denying her and ignoring her and blocking her out.

More pain rattled through him. He could feel the burn of the Geostigma as it flared across his back, spreading and worsening. It was trying to consume him, reduce him to ash. Make him pay for what he had done. Make him pay for what _she _had done. He had her blood. He had that man's blood. He deserved it, after all. Someone had to pay the price, pay the price in blood. It was to be his, his life in the end.

Sephiroth couldn't understand the thoughts, jumbled up and confusing as they raced through his mind. There was her voice and then there was his voice and there was Zack's voice and Tseng's. Denzel was disappointed and Cloud was there, for some reason. Cloud was there with his mako blue eyes, forgiving and yet, he was angry. He was disappointed.

If she was trying to break him, if Jenova was trying to mold him back into hers again, he feared she was succeeding. He was getting the craving, the need to destroy, the ache for blood. Hands twitched with the desire for destruction. Yes, they would pay, these humans.

At every destructive thought, the Geostigma pulsed and blazed until his entire body was shuddering and shaking. His head was throbbing, feeling as if it were about to explode. Lights danced in front of his eyes, multi-colored and bright, though they were slowly being sucked in by a black hole of nothingness.

Someone said his name. It wasn't her.

"_Was I created this way, too? Am I the same as all these monsters?"_

"_You are just a puppet." _

"_What I have shown you is reality. What you remember, that is the illusion." _

"_Ever since I was small, I've felt different from all of the others... special in some way. But not like this." _

What he remembered. The illusion. Jenova's eyes and her call and her face. Her claws scratching down his spine. No. Those weren't her touches. Those belonged to him, to that man. They were fingers, pressing and touching. Invading. Without permission, without reason.

Black spots flitted and grew larger, overwhelming him, consuming him. And the pain had slipped to sheer agony until he was clenching his teeth, a thin trail of blood sliding from his lips.

His body became weightless, falling slowly and yet quickly to the ground, slumping in obvious distress. On the very edge of his sanity, he heard his phone ring though he could have sworn it was on silent. It was Zack's ringtone. Zack was calling him.

He knew he ought to answer.

And then Sephiroth knew nothing.

_Blue eyes. Blond hair. A wavering smile which had the capacity to be stronger. And a field? Flowers?_

_They were surrounded by white, a bright clean white. Something almost Holy. It burned Sephiroth like fire. He wasn't allowed to be in this place. It wasn't for men like him. _

_But he could have sworn he had been invited. Sephiroth was confused, his lips pulling into a frown as he stared into the flowers around him. There was warmth at his back, the warmth of another person. This person was shorter than him and their hair poked at the back of his neck, tickling. _

"_You never make things easy, do you?" came the sigh, half-amused and half-concerned. _

_He recognized that voice. But instead of saying so aloud, his response took another direction. "Do you forgive me? For failing you?" _

"_Forgiveness?" the voice he knew repeated. "Do you think you need forgiveness?" _

"_Yes," Sephiroth whispered, his hands clenching as he stared at the ground. "They lost what I cannot replace. I am a thief, stealing the happiness of others. I must be forgiven. If such a thing can be forgiven." _

_There was a moment of silence where not a wind stirred. It wasn't until then that Sephiroth realized he couldn't smell a single one of the flowers. Everything was so still, as if it were a moment frozen in time. _

_A hand gently touched the back of his. "By who?"_

"_Cloud?" Yet, when Sephiroth turned to look, there was no one there._

* * *

The sound of motors from vehicles more than the brother's motorcycles announced their return to Vincent. He stirred in his tree and peered through the pale branches to catch sight of his targets rolling into the area. Kadaj was on his cycle but the other two were in the cab of a rather large truck. Even more surprising was the sight of the children loaded into the back.

There had to be at least twenty of them, some that Vincent recognized from living in Junon at the Orphanage that Reeve ran. Confused, he carefully shifted position to get a better look, digging his binoculars out of his pack. He brought them to his eyes, peering through the ends at the brothers.

Kadaj was parking the cycle as the eldest came out of the cab, closing the door behind him and moving to the back of the truck. He lowered the tailgate, gesturing for the children to disembark which they did without a fuss. In fact, they didn't appear to have been coerced at all.

Vincent frowned, shifting his field of vision. Yazoo was climbing out of the cab as well, two forms clambering out after him. The former Turk's eyes widened in shock, zooming closer to get a better look. Marlene and Denzel both were with the three, though he couldn't fathom how that had happened. Weren't they safe with Aeris and the others? Did that mean something had happened to Aeris?

He watched as the brothers directed the children towards a path that led deeper into the forest. Vincent knew from experience that this was the second half of their campsite, a location just outside one of the Ancients' abandoned spiral structures and beside a relatively small, clear lake. There would definitely be more room for them to house the kids there.

He couldn't help but wonder why they had amassed an army of children in the first place. It made no sense, no matter how much he twisted the situation. Twisting his jaw in confusion, Vincent waited until they were a good distance away before soundlessly leaping from his chair and following them. The binoculars left behind, he fumbled for his phone, hoping to Kami that he could figure out how to work the blasted thing.

Cid had said there was a way to take pictures with the expensive device. Keeping half an eye on his targets, Vincent turned his phone every which way, trying to find the shortcut button on the outside. He vaguely recalled Cid pointing it out to him before laughing at his lack of phone sense.

In irritation, Vincent had stalk-- walked away and didn't finish listening to the explanation. Frowning, he found a button that had a symbol on it that resembled a camera. He pushed it experimentally and was relieved to find that the screen on his phone automatically popped open the picture menu. Thank Kami.

Breathing a bit easier, Vincent trailed after the brothers and their new companions until they were in front of the abandoned structure. Keeping himself very well hidden, he snapped a few pictures of the children, especially Marlene and Denzel. He planned on sending them to Reeve since it would be somewhat counter-productive to actually speak into his phone.

That, at least, was pretty self-explanatory. Within seconds, the pictures were whizzing their way through the networks to Reeve's own cell.

It wasn't long before his phone buzzed in his hand. Flipping it open, he caught sight of Reeve's response and sighed. It was a damned text message. He hated them because he still couldn't get his phone to stop trying to fill in the words for him. And he was absolutely loathe to ask Cid for help.

"Kadaj was here," the President had typed. "He was looking for Jenova's neck. I had not known he'd taken the children. Or Marlene and Denzel for that matter. Why?"

Cursing under his breath at Reeve, Vincent fumbled with his thrice-damned phone to type in his response. He would make a longer call later when he was out of earshot so for now, this awkward message would have to do. By the gods he hated technology.

After several moments of cursing and attempted phone-throttling, Vincent managed to send a response to Reeve. He promptly cut the device off as soon as the text was delivered and continued his observation.

Kadaj was looking for Jenova's neck. He wondered how much of the boy's actions were of his own will or Jenova inspired. He never expected that they would have to deal with a second Sephiroth. Or three of them to be more exact. He had yet to see the brothers fight but if they were anything like Sephiroth... then things weren't going to be easy this time around.

Again, he wondered what purpose the children would serve. Contrary to the others, Marlene and Denzel looked upset. Marlene's face was visibly tear-streaked though she appeared to be attempting to put on a brave front and Denzel kept angrily eying Loz.

Everything was becoming far more complicated. He should have attempted to do something before children became involved. Now Vincent's hands were tied and he could do nothing but observe. It left him feeling worse than useless.

With a sigh, Vincent settled in for the long haul.

* * *

Marlene had seen a lot in her young life, probably more than the average person would suspect considering her age. But she had survived a kidnapping by the Turks, a rescuing from the Turks, a near destruction of Kalm, a near destruction of Midgar, and numerous other dangerous events. She was stronger than she seemed and understood a lot more than others surmised.

Still, she had never thought she would see the day when Mr. Tseng was defeated. Admittedly, it looked as if he was having a hard time fighting. There were times when he just stood there without doing anything and let the other man hurt him. He was having difficulty concentrating or something. She didn't know.

Denzel was worried, too. Though he didn't show it. The man had kicked Tseng when he was down to make sure he was unconscious. And then he had grabbed them, saying they had to come with him or else. There wasn't anything else the two of them could do.

The man hadn't been mean about it and hadn't hurt them but after seeing what he did to their protector, the two children didn't dare put up a fight. They could only follow numbly, hoping that Mr. Tseng would be okay or that Mr. Sephiroth would come help him.

And now they were far away from Nibelheim. The place was kind of pretty with its white trees and dark green plants. The water looked clean and sparkly, too. But she wanted to be home, not here with these men who all looked a lot like Mr. Sephiroth.

There were other kids here, too. Kids she recognized from the orphanage. They didn't look scared though. And they kept to themselves. They had played quiet games and had talked earlier, though now they were sleeping, leaving Marlene and Denzel alone.

Denzel had finally fallen asleep, his head pillowed on her legs. Marlene was too confused and worried to sleep, even though her body felt really tired and her eyes drooped. She couldn't help but watch those men, wondering what they wanted and why they hurt Mr. Tseng. She wasn't really afraid though. She didn't feel she had reason to be.

She patted Denzel's head with her free hand, comforting the boy as he whimpered in his sleep. Denzel had nightmares a lot, not a surprise. Watching Mr. Tseng get beat up probably reminded him of losing his parents. But Marlene didn't know how to help so all she could do was watch over his sleep. Aeris did it all the time and she always knew best.

Marlene was just starting to doze where she was leaning against a tree when a sound startled her. It sounded like something breaking. She jumped and looked around, but couldn't see anything that would make the sound. She could see the one that had attacked Mr. Tseng walking around where the other kids were sleeping, laying out blankets and stuff. The long-haired one was near the motorcycles, fiddling with his phone. But the other one, the smallest one who seemed to be in charge, he was missing.

There was another sound, though this time it was different. It was faint and she almost didn't hear it except she was so close to the huge shell. It was really a house but since it looked like a big shell that was what she called it. In any case, the sound was like someone crying and voices. It sparked her curiosity because the voice sounded so hurt, like they were in pain.

She knew it probably wasn't smart to go investigate but if she was going to try and get back to Mr. Tseng and the others, she needed to gather information. Therefore, Marlene formed a Plan. It wasn't a very good Plan and was only in the early stages, but it was a start. She watched the big man from the corner of her eye and carefully eased Denzel's head off her lap. She pillowed it on his jacket.

He frowned in his sleep and mumbled something but didn't wake. Proud of herself for her sneakiness, Marlene then stood and crept towards the shell house. Neither of the other Sephiroth-look-alikes noticed her movements. So far so good.

Marlene slipped into the entryway, glad that it wasn't really dark. For some reason, everything around this area sort of glowed, as if it was covered in glow-in-the-dark paint or something. It was kind of pretty and comforting, though she could have done without the whole being taken captive and watching Mr. Tseng get beaten and bloody.

Exercising her sneaking skills taught by Elena-aneki, Marlene crept down the small corridor until she found herself at a doorway. Hiding against the side, she peered in cautiously and looked into a rather large room with a lamp lighting it. It was here that she found the last of the three look-alikes and quickly ducked back behind the wall. Forcing herself to breathe quietly, she snuck little peeks.

The youngest one was pacing back and forth across the ground, boots making a lot of noise and clomping. He was mumbling under his breath, too, body shaking and his fists looking as if they were about to punch someone.

"We've had this discussion," he hissed in a dangerous voice that was kind of scary. His lips curled back, showing that his teeth were gritting together.

She watched as something made him flinch before he shook his head. "I can't. I won't."

There wasn't anyone else in the room so she couldn't help but wonder who he was talking to. Feeling a bit bolder, Marlene placed her hand on the door frame and peered further into the room. She was careful to keep most of her body hidden by the wall though.

He was still pacing. Back and forth, in quicker movements. He looked really distressed, like he was about to start screaming and crying both.

"I don't want that!" he practically yelled in anger.

She drew back out of slight fear, but couldn't stop watching. He looked so hurt. It reminded her of Mr. Sephiroth.

The youngest boy chewed on his lip and to her surprise, it drew blood. He angrily wiped at the blood with the back of his hand, a strange look in his eyes. It made her just a little bit scared. But he seemed scared, too. She just didn't know what of. There was still nothing she could see and the room was very bright. He couldn't have been afraid of the dark or monsters.

One hand clenched at his silver hair. "Stop," he moaned and it came out broken. He sounded as if he were in pain.

The pacing abruptly stopped and he came to a halt in front of a mirror which hung the wall. He stared and stared at the reflective surface with eyes that were the same color as Mr. Sephiroth's. She wondered what he saw in the mirror when all of a sudden his fist pounded against the wall next to it, causing bits and pieces of the house to crumble to the ground. She hadn't known he was that strong.

"Shut up!" he shouted, echoing around the room.

Marlene ducked behind the wall as her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. She was still curious but it fought with her fear. A part of her was worried for the man but she was also afraid of him.

"Shut up," he said again, a bit quieter this time. As if he were begging.

She peeked around the corner again and saw him raise a hand. It was trembling as he grabbed the mirror and suddenly threw it to the floor with a loud crashing sound. Her eyes widened.

"No! I won't do it!"

He shook his head wildly, looking almost crazy. "Leave me alone."

Both fists slammed into the wall, making it shake and crack dangerously again. Her eyes moved to the ceiling where it splintered but did not fall. That was a lucky break.

"Stop..." he moaned this time. It sounded as if he were crying as he slowly fell to his knees, head hanging between his shoulders. His hands remained on the wall above his head, fingers digging into the side of the shell house.

"I won't hurt him. Please..."

Marlene clutched onto the door frame as she watched him, a part of her feeling sorry for him. He looked as if he were really hurting. Like maybe he was crying, too. She sort of pitied him, wanting to comfort him.

She wasn't stupid. She knew what the big man did to Mr. Tseng. But when she looked at the three look-alikes, she noticed that they all had the same look Denzel got sometimes when he was missing Sephiroth or his parents. All three of them looked lonely, even though they had each other, as if they were being hurt on the inside. And sometimes, that was more painful than being hit or cut.

Marlene knew that very well. She sometimes heard Aeris crying when she was thinking about Cloud. Her father always got upset when he talked about Dyne, the man who was really her dad. And Elmyra was really sad whenever she mentioned her other husband.

Suddenly, a hand settled on her shoulder. She started in surprise, heart leaping into her chest. Marlene looked up to see the big man staring down at her. A smile was on his face though and he didn't look to be angry. He squeezed her shoulder and then let go, walking past her and into the room.

The boy on the floor looked up, a few tears dripping from eyes beginning to turn red. "Loz," he croaked, looking every bit like a child. "She won't stop."

Finally, the big one had a name. Loz. It sounded weird. Marlene crinkled her nose at the sound of it but kept watching anyway. Loz didn't seem to care and the other still hadn't noticed her.

Her curiosity wondered what they were talking about.

Loz set his hand on the other one's head like Marlene had done for Denzel. The younger man turned towards him slightly, hands finally letting go of the wall and falling to the floor. He stayed there, crouched and shaking.

Marlene wondered if maybe they were like Mr. Sephiroth who used to be bad but was now hurting and wanting to love Mr. Tseng anyways. He was trying and it was hard but he was making the effort.

The three looked like they needed to be rescued. And even though they had hurt Mr. Tseng, they looked as if they were in pain, too. As If they were fighting a battle they couldn't win and knew they weren't ever going to win.

Despite herself, and knowing she probably should hate them, Marlene didn't. Instead, she felt pity. The fear that had been steadily growing inside of her gradually flitted away, leaving nothing but sadness behind.

It was then that the curiosity left her. Marlene decided that the Plan had ended and tiptoed away, leaving them alone. She snuck back to Denzel's side, a yawn attacking her.

Curling up next to her best friend, Marlene tried to go to sleep. She was certain, if she waited long enough, both Mr. Tseng and Mr. Sephiroth would come save them.

* * *

"I hate this place," Yuffie commented, wrinkling her nose as she and Nanaki stepped into Nibelheim after descending the mountains. "I don't even have a personal reason either. I just do."

Tail swishing behind him, the demi-human was inclined to agree. "It reeks of ShinRa. That is reason enough," he responded, sniffing tentatively at the air. "Both Tseng and Sephiroth have been here, as well as the kids. There's another person though. I don't recognize him."

Yuffie lifted a brow. "You can tell it's a guy?"

He curled his lip in a light smile, tapping his nose with one clawed finger. "One of the perks."

The ninja sighed, hefting up her shuriken. "Well, at least that explains why no one's come back yet, though I'm a bit worried if it's something that Sephiroth can't take down."

She had a point. After dropping by Rocket Town to visit with the children, both Nanaki and Yuffie had instead met with a somewhat frantic Aeris. She couldn't reach Tseng and he had both children with him on a quick search of the ShinRa Mansion. It had been hours and she was certain something was wrong. Thus the reason she had asked the two to check it out for her since she couldn't leave. And now, it seemed that the widow had been right to worry.

They approached the stairs, a trickle of dread lingering on Nanaki's spine. He wasn't going to speak his own concerns aloud. That there were indeed few who could battle on par with Sephiroth. Were it not for the strange scent, he might have worried that something had happened to the former General's sanity. It was no secret that he had been rather non-communicative and distant lately. He might have been laboring under the belief that he needed to protect them from himself, never mind the fact that they defeated him before and would do it again if necessary.

Nanaki was certain that Sephiroth's guilt complex was ten times larger than Vincent's own, and that was saying a lot. After all, the ex-Turk had angsted over a dead love for the better part of thirty years. Nanaki knew that Sephiroth blamed himself for Cloud's death as well as the destruction of Midgar and numerous other non culpable things that he still piled on his conscience anyways. He supposed in many ways, Sephiroth and Cloud were a lot alike.

The two friends-turned-lovers quickly found their way to the room with the hidden door. It was closed, which wasn't really all that unusual except that it only closed when someone left. If there were others down there, they wouldn't have been able to get back out because it locked automatically behind someone. All that remained was to go below.

Yuffie tried to fight back the chills that attacked her as they descended the rickety stairs. She never liked coming to this place the first time around. Finding Vincent in a coffin had been strange enough, though she was glad she hadn't been present for that. Still, she had fought that Lost Number creature from the side and it was pretty damn creepy.

However, even she knew that the worst monsters were those found in the abandoned lab and laboratory. She had only taken a few glimpses at the research notes Hojo left behind. Those few sentences and mad ramblings she had caught had been enough for her to never touch them again. Yuffie avoided the ShinRa mansion like the plague. She didn't need anymore nightmares.

She'd had the thought on more than one occasion that it might be better to just burn the whole place to the ground. It certainly wasn't helping Sephiroth to spend his time brooding in the dark, surrounded by the evidence of all the atrocities his father had performed.

"The door's open," Nanaki commented, disturbing Yuffie from her reverie as he jerked a head towards the lab.

Yuffie blinked. Open was putting it lightly. The door was barely swinging from one hinge, a few holes punched in the thick metal. An uneasy feeling began to settle in her belly and she swallowed thickly.

"That's not a good sign," Yuffie responded, fingering her shuriken. She didn't know if the threat was still present but it never paid to be careful.

Nanaki didn't respond, instead silently stepping towards the doorway. He peered inside, body braced to fight at a moment's notice. Golden eyes swept through the laboratory, taking in the destruction. Books were strewn everywhere, along with pages and pages of documents. Glass glinted in the pale, sterile light and in the far corner, something green coated the floors. It looked like the location of a pretty vicious battle.

And then he saw them, the two bodies curled near together close to the small corridor that led to the inner library. He recognized them in an instant. None others were present.

"They're here," Nanaki tossed over his shoulder before rushing into the destroyed workplace, mindful of the shattered glass on his unshod feet. He still couldn't get used to wearing shoes of any kind, not even open sandals.

Yuffie's startled breath behind him was all the proof he needed that she had followed.

The two men were curled up on the floor, bodies nearly wrapped together in a position that would have been rather adorable if the situation had been different. One of Sephiroth's hands was even laid on Tseng's thigh and the Turk's head had fallen onto the General's knee. Both were unconscious and breathing.

Yuffie dropped to her knees at her cousin's side, automatically reaching for a pulse. "He's warm," she murmured. "And his pulse is steady." She frowned at the sight of the blood flecking his lips, casting her eyes around the room.

They fell on the shattered remnants of something metal. It took seconds for her to recognize what was left of one of Tseng's precious swords.

"Who could have done this?" Nanaki posed aloud as he checked Sephiroth, verifying that the man didn't seem to be injured in the slightest. He couldn't find a reason for Sephiroth's unconscious state. "And where are Denzel and Marlene? They were here."

Yuffie shook her head, fingers curling into fists as she rose to her feet and stepped quickly into the library. A brief search let her know that the children weren't hiding somewhere or anywhere nearby. She turned and headed back into the main lab, nearly stumbling on Tseng's other sword along the way. It was half-buried under a bookshelf and several tattered books.

Tugging it free, she rejoined Nanaki who was tallying Tseng's injuries. "We have to get him to Rocket Town."

Yuffie nodded, showing him the sword. "Maybe Reeve knows what's going on."

"Hmm. Maybe." Nanaki turned back towards Sephiroth and it was then that his eyes caught sight of something interesting. The former General's dyed hair had slipped aside, revealing something on his collarbone. They looked like some sort of wrapping or even...

"Bandages?"

Yuffie's eyes slid his direction, taking note of the same. "What in the world is skilled enough to scratch Sephiroth?"

Nanaki frowned. It was obvious whatever wound was hidden beneath Sephiroth's shirt hadn't been caused by the recent fight. Though it probably wasn't polite, his curiosity compelled him, as well as the sight of the strange shadow peeking to the side of Sephiroth's throat. A clawed finger carefully peeled back the edge of the visible bandage and he gasped, more of the white fabric sliding aside.

"By Suzaku," Nanaki breathed in shock. "How has he survived this?"

"What is it?" his companion asked, trying to wake her cousin with no success. He was effectively unconscious, probably a good thing judging by the state of his shoulder. She couldn't imagine the pain he was in.

The demi-human didn't speak, instead working a bit more of the bandages aside to show her the dark and purpling stain of Geostigma spread all over the right side of Sephiroth's throat and down across his collarbone. Nanaki could only assume that it also raced down the man's back and towards his arm.

Yuffie sucked in a deep breath. "That's the worst case I've ever seen," she commented in horror, a vague sense of nausea creeping into her belly.

Other people had died from cases that weren't half as bad as what Sephiroth suffered. How had he managed to wield his sword?

Sephiroth hadn't mentioned it, hadn't told anyone that he had contracted the disease. They were aware that Reno suffered from a mild case. And Denzel. Vincent to some extent. Even Zack had a few lesions on his hip and thigh that were growing increasingly worrisome. But nothing compared to this. It was truly as if the planet had taken great pains to punish Sephiroth.

Nanaki nodded in agreement, his nose wrinkling a bit. Only those with sensitive nostrils could tell but the Geostigma always scented faintly of decay, like flesh that was slowly and steadily rotting away mixed with the harsh and acrid odor of mako. Sephiroth usually smelled pleasant but now, his natural musk was being overridden by the stench of Geostigma. If he had been near Sephiroth sooner, he would have noticed it but damn, the man had been so solitary.

"I didn't know," Yuffie added, a part of her upset that Sephiroth obviously didn't trust any of them enough. Her eyes slid to her cousin. "I wonder if Tseng knew."

"He had to have," Nanaki answered. "You saw it for yourself. They've been intimate. No doubt Sephiroth didn't want anyone else to know."

The ninja frowned, a sense of helplessness joining the other emotions warring in her heart, some of it guilt. "But Reeve--"

"Sephiroth doesn't trust doctors anymore than Vincent does," her lover reminded her with a faint sigh. Sometimes, he wondered if the two – Sephiroth and Vincent – weren't related after all. "Do you think you can carry Tseng? I'm pretty sure I can get Sephiroth over a shoulder."

Her eyes darkening in thought, it took a moment for the ninja to stir and nod. "We only have to go as far as the gate. I can grab us a car."

Nanaki lifted a brow. "Since when have you learned how to hot wire anything?"

The cheeky grin he received in return made him feel marginally better. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He rolled his eyes. "I shouldn't have asked."

Kneeling, Nanaki hefted the unconscious man rising to his feet and situating Sephiroth until he was draped over one shoulder. He was grateful for the extra strength this form provided him. Luckily, Sephiroth had only a few inches on him in height but the man was considerably more dense in terms of muscle mass, which one wouldn't be able to tell at first glance.

He eyed Yuffie as she stood, claiming Tseng's scabbard and shoving it into her belt where it awkwardly clanked at her thighs. Nanaki didn't dare offer to carry it, having the feeling that it was like a family thing. He watched as she somehow managed to get an arm around Tseng and haul him against her side. Forcing herself to be careful was making it much more difficult. He watched with bemusement as she huffed under his greater weight and height.

"Okay," she panted, giving him a look that was both annoyed and amused. "Just a little help." He considered it great progress that she no longer took it as an insult when he offered aid. Though this was probably due to the fact she beat him in their spars more often than not even when he was actually trying.

Despite the situation, Nanaki chuckled at her and moved to Tseng's other side, throwing his other arm around the man's waist. Tseng was remarkably less heavy than his lover but it was still awkward all the same. Yuffie's personality did not quite match her stature.

"I could always carry them one at a time."

Yuffie shook her head. "I'm not leaving him here alone or staying here alone. It's this or nothing." It was always cute how her jaw set with determination. He wanted to kiss her. Only, now was not the time.

"Stubborn," Nanaki muttered under his breath, but the tone was filled with affection.

"And proud of it," she replied smugly, giving Tseng a little bump with her hip. "Now let's get the two lovebirds back to Aeris so we can figure out what the hell's going on."

Nanaki had long ago learned it was better not to argue.

* * *

a/n: This chapter annoys me for some reason. I don't know why. I feel that it is terrible. It seems a little rushed. Did anyone else get that feeling?


	11. Interlude Three: Finding Home

a/n: Dearest me! I'm terribly sorry for the wait but I lost access to the internet without any warning at all! I apologize for being unable to respond to your reviews but I enjoyed each and every one of them. They were wonderful things to return to. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Bits of boyxboy love in here. Not too graphic. Easily skipped over if you must. Enjoy!

**Shattered Children: Interlude Three**

**Finding Home**

**(Cid/Vincent)**

Calloused hands were roaming across his skin and lips were nibbling on his bare shoulder. He could feel the scratchy and familiar presence of stubble as he stirred, seeking more of the simple touch.

Vincent tilted his head to the side, providing his lover with more access. "The first alarm clock I haven't felt the urge to shoot," he murmured sleepily, trying to ignore the streaming rays of morning light trying to peek through the curtains of their shared room.

Cid chuckled lightly, reaching up with one hand to sweep aside long dark hair as he kissed the back of Vincent's neck, gently nibbling with his teeth. Exploratory fingers traveled lower, tugging on the ex-Turk's hip and dragging him flush against the surprisingly energetic pilot. Cid was usually the last to rise so long as he didn't have to be anywhere. He was notorious for sleeping late.

"I s'pose I should consider myself lucky then," Cid replied, sliding his hand to the cleft of Vincent's buttocks, fingers tickling at the hidden entrance.

The former Turk shifted his hips ever so slightly, encouraging his lover as he made a noncommittal noise in his throat. "You're up early," he said, one hand groping under the pillow for the stashed, half-empty bottle of oil.

Cid pressed his lips to Vincent's shoulder again, tongue teasing at the tanned skin. "You wanted to see the damn ruins, remember?" His hardened length slid along the soft skin of Vincent's inner thigh.

Vincent handed the bottle over his shoulder without looking, turning his head slightly to capture his lover's lips with his own. Cid's tongue slid into his mouth, tangling with his own in a slow, steadying kiss.

Lazy mornings waking up like this, no pressure to battle, nothing but getting to know one another like they hadn't the chance to before... it was certainly the best vacation Vincent had ever been on. Even if it had been dragging on for the past month or so. He felt no urge to return to whatever they planned to do afterwards.

The bottle of oil opened with a pop and Vincent felt the cool liquid dribble between his buttocks. He shivered, but not of cold, and lazily expanded the kiss. This slow and steady love-making was definitely out of his area of expertise but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed it. Cid's fingers worked him slowly and carefully, stroking him and teasing him with flits across his sensitive nub.

Vincent shuddered, a warm and pleasant hum lingering on his spine. The gentle build-up was just as arousing as the hot and heavy quick encounters on the closest available space. He would never say so aloud, but he enjoyed the quiet moments. He liked the feel of Cid's hands slowly exploring his body and arousing him.

The lips left his and trailed lovingly across his cheek and jaw, moving to the side of his neck. Cid's tongue flicked over his flesh, warm breath occasionally puffing across the moistened skin. Vincent momentarily regretted the loss of Cid's fingers as they left him until the calloused touch settled on his upper thigh.

Cid encouraged him to slide his top leg back until it was settled on top of Cid's, bringing the pilot's groin flush with Vincent's buttocks. Cid's arousal was nestled between, nudging at his entrance. With a roll of his hips, Cid slowly pressed inside of him and the both of them groaned, sweat just beginning to dot their bodies.

"Warm," Cid murmured into his skin, almost sound half-asleep as his hands began to move over Vincent's body.

They were flitting barely present touches. A stroke over a slightly pale thigh. A flattened palm skating across Vincent's abdomen. A light pinch on peaked nipples. A caress across the faint curve of a hip. A bare brush of fingers over his ardent need, causing him to pant softly and crave more.

It all grew into a building need that spread inside of him, a banking fire that burned brighter and brighter. Vincent's hips moved in a slow rhythm to Cid's shallow thrusts, one hand clenching around nothing as they other groped behind him. He grabbed a handful of Cid's ass and pulled Cid closer to him, encouraging a deeper thrust.

Lips pressed again to his throat, warm and slightly chapped. He could feel the brush of Cid's leg hair against his own always oddly smooth legs and it was a reminding presence. He could feel Cid moving inside of him, a constant motion against his prostrate that sent shocks of pleasure through him. Cid's hand continued its gentle explorations, brushing over the skin of his thigh.

Outside the window, the sun rose a bit higher, sending streams of pale morning light into the room. Covers were shifted and thrust aside as the temperature on the bed increased, the mattress squeaking quietly beneath their movements.

"Cid," Vincent breathed, unwilling to believe that it had been a plea. But his lover understood nevertheless.

The fleeting touches ended and finally, fingers encircled around his arousal. Cid languidly stroked him, increasing the pace of his thrusts by a small margin.

"Kinda nice, isn't it?" he murmured into Vincent's ear, tugging on a lobe with his teeth. "No battles? No Yuffie? No Mr. President calling for rides?"

Vincent's fingers clenched on Cid's thigh. "Mmm," he agreed, concentrating fully on the sensations inside of him. "But I know you still miss the sky."

He felt the brush of Cid's face fuzz which he could never quite get rid of on the back of his neck as Cid buried his face there, nuzzling into dark strands. "I'm workin' on that," he replied, breath quickening as his own need grew and expanded.

"Work a little harder," Vincent responded, but he was no longer talking about the same topic. He pushed his hips back, encouraging Cid to go deeper.

The scowl that crossed Cid's lips was mostly playful. "Hey," he complained indignantly. "Demanding bastard."

But he listened anyways, tightening his grip and stroking Vincent just a bit faster. Conversation died as the only speech necessary was the grunts and moans, wordless pleas for more.

Vincent's hold on Cid tightened as he rolled his body, searching for more, need coiling and tightening inside of him. Cid's fingers stroked over his arousal, just the way he had come to learn how the ex-Turk enjoyed it.

It wasn't long before he was shuddering, a low moan slipping from his lips as his release struck him. He spilled over Cid's fingers and dripped onto the comforter. Several thrusts later, as Cid's mouth latched onto him right at the juncture of neck and shoulder, he felt Cid climax inside of him.

A calloused hand settled on Vincent's hip, still sticky with his seed, and Cid squeezed gently. Their bodies gradually settled back onto the mattress as they waited for their heart rates to settle, sweat dotting their bodies.

"Best damn alarm ever, hmm?" Cid chuckled in Vincent's ear, placing another stubbly kiss to his lover's shoulder.

Vincent rolled his eyes. "Now they'll have to come change the sheets."

"I didn't see you complaining." Cid's finger traced a nonsensical circle on Vincent's exposed thigh. "Besides, now we can go to those ruins you wanted to see, right?"

An elegant brow lifted. "You will go without argument?"

The first time he had even suggested wandering out there, Cid had given him a look of absolute disinterest and boredom. Vincent had resigned himself to exploring alone. It wouldn't bother him a bit since he was certain Cid would be just as happy tinkering with some broken engine while he was gone.

Cid shrugged and began to slowly disentangle their bodies. "Might as well. Ain't got nothin' better to do." He absentmindedly wiped his hand on the bed. "Shower first, though. And breakfast."

Vincent was quick to agree.

* * *

Cid yawned, stretching his arms up over his head and causing the muscles in his back to give an audible pop. It was only noon but he still felt it was way too fuckin' early to go traipsing through the wilderness of Mideel, looking for a piece of architecture falling apart and crumbling.

"How much farther?" he asked, trying not to sound like he was whining. He was approaching forty for Kami's sake. He was beyond the age of acting petulant.

Cool grey eyes shot him an amused look as Vincent contemplated the small map the innkeeper had provided to them. "Just through this stand of trees," he assured his lover, folding up the parchment and shoving it into one of the pockets of his pants.

Cid still couldn't believe that Vincent was wearing so much despite the head of Mideel. He was decked out in shorts and a tee himself, but the best Vincent would bare was his arms. The rest was shrouded in clothing of varying dark shades. At least he had enough sense to tie his hair back otherwise he would have been miserable. Not that the ex-Turk would have shown his discomfort.

"What kinda place are these ruins anyway?" the pilot asked, wishing he had a cigarette as he cursed and shoved a huge branch out of his face. Well-worn path, his ass. This route looked as if it hadn't been walked in centuries.

Vincent tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "Legends in Mideel claim its something leftover from the Ancients, not unlike the Temple."

"Hmph. They say anythin' bout it bein' haunted by damn mute ghosts?" the pilot demanded, remembering all too clearly the stupid and annoying beings they had encountered what seemed so long ago.

"Not that I recall." He hid the small smile the best he could, knowing it wouldn't do for Cid to see how amused he actually was.

He was saved from anymore of his lover's questions when they finally stumbled out of the thick and unyielding jungle and into a large, open expanse. In front of them stretched a wide, flat plain of swaying non-tropical grasses with the ivy-covered stones visible on the other side.

"Huh," the blond commented, fingers twitching towards his brow before realizing that yes, he had already _given up_ that habit. "Weird."

He was right.

The grasses were rather flat and evenly spaced. A clearing of such a size shouldn't have existed on an entirely tropical island. And neither male was aware of Mideel having extensive farming practices.

"Maybe," Vincent responded. "But it can't be too dangerous. We'll see anything if it comes."

Cid couldn't argue with that and the two lovers stepped out onto the waving expanse of green. The ground was firm beneath their feet, dry and a bit crumbling on the edges, as they waded into the grasses which came to their knees.

But it wasn't until they were halfway across that something unexpected occurred.

Vincent tripped, his foot catching on something hidden by the vegetation, and stumbled forward. Cid reacted on instinct, grabbing him to prevent his fall and inadvertently causing the both of them to tumble to the ground in a crumbled heap.

"Dammit, Vince," Cid cursed, as he rubbed at his side where a bony elbow had struck him a bit too hard.

The ex-Turk shot him a disbelieving look as he struggled to disentangle their limbs. "It was your fault, chief."

"My fault, my ass," Cid snorted. "What happened to your goddamned Turk grace?"

Vincent rose to his feet, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "I didn't expect anything to be there," he answered, swiping his hands over his pants to brush off pieces of grass and seeds that migrated there from his fall.

The pilot snorted again, his only true response and dragged himself upwards. He scanned the ground for the object his lover had tripped over, blinking in surprise when he found something metallic sticking out of the ground.

"What the fuck's this?" Cid demanded, crouching to get a better look at the thing. It appeared to be a handle of some sort, faintly rusted and peeking above a thick cropping of yellow-green grass.

Furrowing his brow, Vincent shrugged with a complete lack of interest. "A remnant from the ruins," he suggested, only because Cid seemed fascinated. "It's probably nothing."

He turned away, focusing his gaze on the ruins in the distance. He much preferred to visit those. But alas, his lover was completely ignoring him, already digging his fingers into the ground around the handle and pulling out the grasses by their roots.

"It's a fuckin' latch!" the pilot exclaimed in surprise, grunting as a particularly difficult piece of vegetation finally came loose, spraying him with clumps of dirt and root.

Vincent blinked, whirling to face his lover. "What?"

He tugged ineffectually at the handle with a few more demonstrative grunts. "This damn thing looks like a door," Cid answered, squaring his jaw in frustration before returning to digging around it. He was now throwing clods of dirt over his shoulder, movements excited as he worked to unveil his discovery.

"Help me, Vince."

Like hell.

Vincent shook his head, lips drawing into an amused smirk. "I don't think so. Your handle, your curiosity."

Blue eyes glanced at him once before Cid returned to his digging with energetic fervor. Vincent stood by and watched as the dirt was gradually cleared away, revealing something made of metal underneath. It certainly appeared to be a hatch of some kind, with a small glass portal that was impossible to see through. It was rectangular as well, with only one latch.

"Wonder what's inside," he huffed, wiping sweat from his brow.

Grunting, Cid rose to his feet and grasped onto the latch. He crouched over the hatch and tugged. Nothing happened. Unwilling to be defeated, Cid tried again, muscles bulging in his arms. There was the faintest of squeaks but still, the lid refused to budge.

He turned pleading eyes onto his lover.

Vincent sighed. "I'm expecting the favor to be returned," he announced as he wrapped his fingers around the dirtied handle.

Cid only grinned at him, face filled with an almost childish glee. "On the count of three?"

"Whatever."

Shaking his head, Cid braced himself against the ground and began his count. The moment he said three, the both of them tugged with all their strength. At first, the hatch didn't seem to want to budge. And then, all of a sudden, it popped and flew open, showering them with dirt and bits of rock.

The lid slammed to the ground behind it with a loud thunk and Cid went flying, landing solidly on his ass. That damned Turk grace kept Vincent from a ridiculous tumble as he glared at his lover, spitting a rogue piece of grass from his mouth that had inadvertently wandered there. Vincent brushed off his clothes as Cid ignored him.

The pilot grinned and crawled on hands and knees to the lip of the opening. He peered into the darkness, unable to see anything but a ladder that extended downwards.

"Why hasn't anyone found this before?" he asked, voice echoing slightly in the tunnel.

"Maybe they have and it's nothing of interest," Vincent responded, brushing dirt clumps from his hair and glaring at the streaks of dirt on his fingers.

Cid craned his neck and stuck his head further in, reaching with one hand to rap a fist against the side. The low dong of metal greeted his ears. He looked up at his lover with a familiar, self-assured grin.

"Looks interesting to me."

Vincent sighed. "Highwind."

"Come on, Vince," Cid began to wheedle, wanting to explore so badly he felt like a child once again. "We're on vacation, ain't we?"

Grey eyes regarded him dryly. "You had no interest in the ruins, did you?"

"Not a one!" Cid replied cheerfully, already swinging his legs over the side and testing the stability of the metal rungs. They appeared willing to hold his weight, without a single sign of rust.

Shaking his head, the ex-Turk double-checked his equipment, making certain he hadn't lost his Winchester along the way. The weaker gun was probably all that they would need. He doubted anything dangerous or hungry enough to kill them lived down there. Still, it never hurt to be careful. One didn't forget their Turk training that easily.

He gestured towards his lover. "Lead the way, Chief."

If at all possible, Cid's grin widened further, eyes sparkling in a manner that Vincent hadn't seen since their visit to space. He imagined that his lover must have been like that as a child, looking up at the sky and the stars with such excitement, such yearning. He couldn't help but remember his own childhood and Vincent wondered if he had ever dreamed like that.

It was probably the reason he didn't mind getting dragged into Cid's adventure quite so much.

Cid began to descend, his feet easily finding the next rung and Vincent climbed in after him.

"Did it occur to you that we soon will not be able to see?" Vincent asked, his voice echoing in the dimming shaft.

Cid grunted. "We'll think of sumthin'."

"Your planning capabilities astound me," the ex-Turk countered laconically

"Shuddap."

Despite that, Vincent knew that Cid didn't really mean it. The banter was something usual and familiar, a nice rapport that had developed between them during the advancement of their relationship.

They descended further and further, making Vincent wonder just how further the shaft led into the darkness. The light of the midday sun was getting harder and harder to see. He was therefore glad when he heard Cid grunt again, followed by the sound of him dropping from the ladder and landing on solid ground. His boots touching down echoed the sound of metal once more.

Curiosity sought to make a place inside of Vincent.

There was a scritch as Cid lit a match, always carrying a full box despite not smoking anymore. With the small, flickering light, Cid was already poking around as Vincent landed beside him.

Peering into the darkness, the ex-Turk could barely make out the sight of another hall stretching out in front of them, leading to Kami knew where. But otherwise, the somewhat circular room was small and empty. Above them, Vincent could barely make out the brightness of daylight. It was a small consolation.

"The Lifestream must have pushed it up," Vincent commented thoughtfully as Cid began to poke around with interest. "This thing has probably been buried for a long time."

"S'fuckin' strange."

Vincent blinked. That certainly wasn't the response he had been expecting. "What is?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at his lover. It was slightly chillier down there.

The pilot cursed as his match burnt his finger and quickly reached for another. "There's a fuckin' light switch here."

He cocked his head to the side. "What?"

But Cid was already experimentally flicking the switch. Nothing happened. "Heh."

He paused and reached into his pocket, pulling out a flat-headed screwdriver. Vincent had no idea why he was carrying the random tool with him and had realized long ago that it was in his best interest not to ask. He watched as the engineer flicked off the faceplate and peered within.

Another curse echoed in the dark shaft as the match burned down and attacked his finger. "Fuckin' match," Cid grumbled, digging for another. He was going through them rather quickly.

Rolling his eyes, Vincent slid his Fire materia out of his armlet. With a small push, he activated the tiny globe, causing a dim glow to cascade into the room. He moved to his lover's side and held it over Cid.

"Better?"

Cid grunted, his own personal form of thanks, and got back to work. He fiddled with wires, cursed some more, and yelped when he was abruptly shocked. The voltage was low enough not to cause any harm however.

"There's still power running to this... whatever it is?" Vincent asked, entirely bewildered. The locals hadn't mentioned a recent crash nor could he remember any event large enough to bury something beneath the surface this deeply.

"Prolly only a basic generator or sumthin'," Cid responded distractedly and promptly twisted his wrist in a sharp motion.

A low buzzing filled the room, followed by a flicker, and then a pale yellow light flooded the area. They were obviously only emergency lights but frankly, they were better than matches and Fire materia.

The slightest thread of unease began to work its way through Vincent. "What is this thing?"

"Don't know," Cid replied, brushing off his hands with a hint of excitement in his voice.

He turned away from the panel and gazed longingly down the long hallway. "But I aim to find out," he added, already heading towards the dim dark.

Fighting back the urge to sigh, Vincent followed after his lover, sliding the materia back into his armlet. "All right. What do you _think _it is?" he questioned, trying not to be too annoyed or throttle the other man.

He did love Cid after all. Just sometimes, he didn't like him very much.

Cid chuckled. "A spaceship," he deadpanned from just in front of the ex-Turk, his body a dark shadow of movement.

Even in the dark, Vincent knew that his lover was grinning like the damned fool that he was. "Not funny, Highwind," he responded inching closer to Cid. He didn't like how dark and enclosing this place felt to him, the silence unnerving and reminding him of memories he'd rather not recall.

"Well, what else could it be?" Cid posed, nearly sounding logical. "It's too big to be somethin' simple. And Mideel isn't exactly known for it's aeronautics."

Dammit but the man had a point.

Vincent wrestled the idea around in his mind, fully prepared to put forth his own theory when they suddenly stepped out of the hall and into another room. It vastly resembled the console to the spaceship, circular with a huge panel lining the entire wall. Chairs were bolted to the ground in front of it and a large keyboard-like panel was spread out before them.

He found his breath catch in his throat as Cid's eyes widened, stepping into the large room. Something which appeared to be either a large window or a large monitor was dark above the console. Cid walked towards a chair as if drawn by some other power, fingers running over the keyboard.

The moment he touched a key, the dark monitor whirred to life. A single line of code appearing on the screen. Vincent couldn't identify the language. If it was even language at all.

"What is this?" Vincent found himself asking, his voice sounding strange in the almost reverent quiet.

Cid didn't answer, instead moving to sit at the seat. He lifted his hands, placed them over the keyboard, and typed a single entry, just a few characters. How his lover had known what to press, Vincent wasn't sure and a part of him was afraid to ask.

At first, nothing happened. The cursor blinked on and off for a moment as if it didn't register the command. A sound of frustration spilled from Cid's lips.

And then the monitor went black, the entire room cast into darkness. Even the emergency lights flickered. Vincent felt his breath catch in his throat, telling himself that it was absolutely not fear, before the screen popped back on. And then the words came.

The language that appeared, scrolling by at a dizzying pace, was a mix of something Wutaiian and something else. Cid was eying it avidly, seemingly transfixed as if he could make sense of the words. The most Vincent could puzzle out however was the drawn lines and signatures of some type of schematic.

"Fuck!" Cid suddenly cursed happily. "It's an airship."

Vincent blinked. "What?"

"It's a kamidamned airship!" Cid cackled and then, his fingers were flying over the keyboard, moving faster than Vincent could register.

The screen in front of them buzzed and then cleared out. One by one, more screens and blips raced in front of them until they were staring at over twenty different read outs. Words scrawled absently here and there. He saw pictures and diagrams and in the top right hand corner, an image of an airship slowly turned, showing all sides. Vincent could only stare in astonishment.

"How is that possible?"

The pilot shook his head. The contraption around them gave a low rumble as lights began to flicker on, more than just emergency this time. "Hell if I know, but I ain't turnin' down this chance. This baby's mine!" Another slightly evil cackle followed this declaration.

Vincent hadn't seen him this excited, this intrigued in a long time.

Cid started mumbling to himself about aspects of the ship. Power supplies and rotors and all sorts of technical drivel that Vincent didn't care to pay attention to. It was making Cid happy and that was all he cared about. It wasn't necessary that he understand.

He slid down into the seat next to Cid, staring at the console with its many buttons and latches. Vincent wondered just how this thing, this airship, had come into existence. It was obviously very old. A remnant from a prior civilization perhaps. Something before the Ancients?

He supposed that if that were true than it really belonged to no one. And who would begrudge Cid Highwind the rights to fix it and make it his? None that he could think of. Mideel was fond of the Captain after all. They wouldn't make a fuss.

Besides, watching Cid from the corner of his eye, Vincent found a smile flitting onto his own lips. It would be worth it to see the joy returned to his lover's eyes. He didn't have any aspirations for himself beyond forgiving himself for the past and simply enjoying his life now that he had the chance. And it had been he to encourage Cid to seek another dream.

What better way than to start now?

Decision made, Vincent sat back in his chair and listened to Cid mutter under his breath, prattling on in Engineer-language beyond his scope. One hand idly traced the scars on the other, remnants of the past he was learning to accept and forget. It was strange how easy moving along was, when one actually tried.

In fact, it was a lot like finding home.

One might think he had forgotten. One might think he was no longer welcome. But it was always there, in some place or another, waiting patiently. Calling silently. Encouraging gently.

Sometimes all it took was a little guidance, a nudge in the right direction.

"Dammit... stupid little..." Cid cursed and trailed off, doubling his efforts. His words dragged Vincent's eyes towards him.

And the former Turk smiled. If only a little bit.

Home, indeed.

* * *

a/n: Ah, they are so cute. I just love writing them now, like this, without the angst. Though angst is good, too. More to come!


	12. Chapter 7: Acrid Oblivion

**a/n: Hiya! I'm back with another chapter. I actually sort of like this one so I hope you guys like it, too! Thanks to everyone who is still sticking with me through this long-ass arc. And this story! I'm definitely glad for your support. -sniffle- Enjoy!  
**

**Shattered Children: Chapter Seven**

**Acrid Oblivion**

Sephiroth awoke to the feeling of cotton in his mouth and a headache that pulsed and throbbed at his temples. He peeled his eyes open, grimacing at the brightness of the sunlight that practically blinded him. It was then that he registered he was lying in a bed and he wasn't still in the basement of the ShinRa mansion. It took him just as long to realize that he was only wearing his pants.

Bolting upright, Sephiroth immediately winced when pain shot through him, rocketing across his back and arm. He hissed, hand moving to grip the covered Geostigma as if it would actually help the pain. It didn't, of course, but the movement was entirely unconscious. The bandages felt stiff and new. Someone had changed them.

Hand still on his arm, Sephiroth chanced a look around. He was in a bedroom that it took him a moment to recognize. Aeris' home. He was in the spare room at Aeris' house. The door was slightly ajar and he could dimly hear the sounds of dishes clanking downstairs. Food was wafting pleasantly towards his nose but the churning inside made it impossible for him to be hungry.

Green-grey eyes hastily scanned the room, wondering how he had gotten here. He quickly spotted Tseng on the bed next to him and was relieved to find the man's chest moving in deep and even breaths. He had been bandaged up as well, probably thanks to Aeris' expertise. Still, that didn't explain how he had gotten from the mansion to Rocket Town.

"What happened?"

The voice broke into his slowly gathering thoughts, familiar though he couldn't place it in an instant. Sephiroth swung his gaze towards the doorway, finding both Nanaki and Yuffie standing there. He wondered how long they had been there and why he hadn't heard the squeak of the door as it opened. He couldn't have been that deep in thought.

He didn't make any gesture for the two to enter but they did anyways, Nanaki's eyes flickering between Sephiroth and the white bandages covering most of his upper body. "We found you in the ShinRa mansion but whatever – _whoever _- did that was already gone."

Sephiroth shook his head, reading into the insinuation in a moment. "I don't know who. Tseng was already injured when I showed up." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "The children?" he asked, inwardly berating himself for not remembering Denzel and Marlene earlier.

"They weren't there," Yuffie answered in lieu of Nanaki, flopping down with little grace into a chair next to her unconscious cousin. She was careful to keep her voice low so as not to wake him. "And now we know why."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Nanaki sighed and shifting his weight, crossing his arms. "There are three men who suddenly appeared in Junon, bearing suspicious resemblance to you," he explained, tail swinging lazily behind him in an arc of dim fire. "They are looking for Jenova."

"I've met them," Sephiroth replied, thinking back to the encounter.

Or to be more precise, he had met two of them. The third had not been there when they made their presence known. They had attacked him but not with the intention to kill. He wasn't entirely sure what they wanted from him. What did their resemblance to him mean? Had there been more experiments like his own?

A flash of the Nibelheim reactor came to mind. All those twisted and grotesque bodies, trapped behind metal and glass, alive but silent. Well, silent to anyone else. He could hear their screams, however. He could hear their incoherent babble, their desperate desire to be free, the blood lust. More than their appearance, those haunting voices had been the first thing to drive him into the madness that eventually led to Nibelheim's destruction.

He had destroyed those failed experiment, or at least, he had thought he did. But that didn't mean Hojo couldn't easily recreate them. After his death, it was entirely possible that Hojo would want to try again. But then, those men that came after him, the one looked much too old. Hojo would have had to start sometime around the year Sephiroth had been sent to the military.

A sense of cold washed over Sephiroth. He nearly missed the rest of the conversation as Yuffie stirred in interest.

"When?" she asked.

Sephiroth waved her off, unwilling to share the details of that meeting. Not when he didn't understand it himself. "That's not important," he dismissed, trying to focus his swirling thoughts on what was more crucial. "What about Denzel and Marlene?"

"For some reason, those men took them. They're brothers as Vincent tells it," Nanaki explained, walking to the window and moving aside the curtain with one finger to peer out. "They not only took Denzel and Marlene but a good portion of the children from the orphanage in Junon as well."

"Why?" Sephiroth asked, completely baffled.

He couldn't think of a single logical reason for them to kidnap a bunch of kids. Unless they were merely trying to draw him out. Not that he wouldn't have gone anyways. The pull of Jenova was becoming too strong. Eventually, they would have had to meet. No, those brothers would have known that. There had to be another reason for taking the children.

Yuffie shrugged, crossing her legs as she fiddled with a shuriken. "We don't know. They've already attacked Reeve and other than wanting Jenova, we don't really know what they're after."

It hit Sephiroth then, making him wonder why he hadn't seen it sooner. They wanted Jenova. They wanted the children and most of them had been hit by Geostigma. They were malleable, desperately seeking for someone to save them. It would be pathetically easy to convince them.

"Another Reunion," Sephiroth stated, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He hadn't meant them to hear it.

Nanaki shot him an odd look, full of that timeless knowledge that often belied his youthful appearance. "Reunion?"

His head suddenly felt as if it were aching; Sephiroth nodded, knowing he couldn't refrain from answering now. "Jenova is not as dead as we thought," he responded, resisting the urge to rub his forehead where he could feel something pulsing behind his skull. "No doubt she is controlling them in some fashion."

The two exchanged glances again and more than just a conversation passed between them. There was understanding and comfort, a connection that had been steadily growing. It was subtle, but even emotionally-stunted Sephiroth could see that what was between them was real. It made him think of his failed attempts at establishing a relationship with Tseng, made him wonder if he was even capable of grabbing his own comfort.

"They only took the ones who had been inflicted with Geostigma," Yuffie commented quietly, confirming what Sephiroth had deduced for himself. A fierce anger began to grow in her eyes as her fingers curled into determined fists.

It truly was some type of Reunion then. Jenova was calling to her children.

Unconsciously, Sephiroth's hand returned to his arm, fingers lightly tracing over the thick, white bandages. He hated that everyone would know now, but he should have realized that hiding the truth forever was impossible. For all their strength, they were all inexplicably nosy.

"How long have you had it?" Nanaki asked, staring pointedly at a spot just behind Sephiroth. Undoubtedly he was recalling the full extent of the spread of Geostigma on the former General's back.

Sephiroth didn't want to answer because it was none of their business but it wasn't in him to snap rudely, especially when a part of him owed these people his life. Besides, they were Cloud's friends, Cloud's family. It wasn't in his right to drive them away.

"Too long," he responded evasively, trying his marginal best to keep his tone even. "It doesn't matter. There's nothing to cure it."

Nanaki turned back towards him, letting the curtain slide over the window once more. "Does Denzel know?"

Sephiroth shook his head, leaving it at that.

A moment of silence filled the room before Nanaki sighed. "Your bike is out front." When Sephiroth looked up at him with a flash of alarm, the demi-human quickly held up a hand of pause. "Don't worry. I drove it. Not Yuffie."

"Hey!" she inserted indignantly. "I drove the truck they were in."

"And luckily they weren't hurt any worse," he shot back with a teasing note, amusement glittering in his eyes.

Sephiroth was only partially listening to them. "Where did they take them?" he asked, interrupting their flirting.

Golden eyes swung back his direction. "To the City of the Ancients past Bone Village," Nanaki replied, sensing that a dark mood was descending on the room. "Are you going after them?"

Sephiroth was silent for a moment, internally debating his options. He knew that he was going after them, but he also knew that it might not be the best thing for him to do. Not with the way Jenova was growing stronger, not with weakness spreading in a crippling motion across his back. He could tell without testing that his hand was losing its ability to grip a sword. He morbidly wondered once more how much longer he had to live.

"I don't know," he replied honestly and ignoring the startled looks on their faces. "I need to think."

Luckily, they understood the truth of his request. Without another word, the two departed, closing the door behind them. He was left alone with a still unconscious Tseng and his thoughts. It was a wonder the Turk hadn't woken yet. Then again, he had been in pretty bad shape when Sephiroth found him.

Sephiroth remained seated on his bed for a moment, fingers still idly rubbing the bandages over his infection. It had spread, he could tell that without even having to look. He felt it creeping further down his back, stretching towards his fingers and crippling his wrist. He wondered if it would consume him entirely before killing him. No one else had lived this long. Or perhaps the mako in his blood helped to counteract it, a constant healing against the constant deterioration.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sephiroth finally forced himself to rise from the bed, a sharp pain racing down his spine at the abrupt movement. The hitch in his breath was the only indication, however, and he quickly crossed the room. He parted the curtains, staring outside where the sun was quickly setting, leaving heavy shadows everywhere in Rocket Town. It looked absurdly cheerful, a direct counterpoint to his mood.

Jenova. Reunion. Three brothers who resembled him. Cloud in his dream.

He felt it all weighing on his shoulders, trying to bear him to the ground. It wasn't that he had expected complete peace after the end of the Chaos War, but he certainly hadn't anticipated his ghosts coming back to haunt him. But he should have known. While fighting Balaam and the others, there had been hints that Jenova wasn't yet gone. Moments when he wasn't himself, whispers at night when he knew he was alone. Strange urges for destruction. He wondered if he would ever be completely free of her influence.

Somehow, a part of Sephiroth doubted it. At least he had never dared to hope for a simple future. The moment he first spotted the flush of Geostigma, he knew he his fate had been sealed. The Planet wasn't quite done punishing him and though he might have had reason for insanity, it didn't purge him of his misdeeds.

A cheery, chirping noise suddenly filled the room.

Sephiroth started in surprise, letting go of the curtain and allowing it to slide back into place with a swish. It took him a moment to register what the annoying noise actually was, recalling that Zack had set it to that energetic chirp for a reason. He frowned, trying to place the location of his phone.

He spotted his shirt and other accessories piled haphazardly on a chair near the door and quickly crossed the room. Digging through the heap, he located the twirping phone and scanned the readout. It was Zack. He had no reason to ignore his best friend and besides, he had probably already heard from Aeris. It was best if he answered it.

With a worried glance towards Tseng, hoping he hadn't woken the Turk, Sephiroth pressed the button and slipped out of the room. In the nearly silent hallway, he leaned against the door and held the phone to his ear.

"Zack."

There was a moment of stunned quiet before a low, amused chuckle filtered through the speaker. "Damn, you actually answered," Zack responded, his voice sounding slightly raspy though Sephiroth couldn't remember a day in the man's life when he had been sick. "I was beginning to think that even I had fallen from favor."

Sephiroth sighed, his free hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What is it?" he demanded, hoping he could convince Zack to just spit it out rather than tease. He really wasn't in the mood.

"Aeris called Reeve and let us know what's going on," the other man responded, voice instantly losing its bemused note. "But I want to hear it from you. I'm worried about you, Seph."

"Tell me about the brothers first," Sephiroth countered, ignoring the twinge of guilt inside of him.

Zack was the closest thing he had to family, Valentine's dubious connections to him notwithstanding. Yet, he had been ignoring Zack as well. A part of him was surprised that he hadn't been completely written off by Zack yet. Then again, the younger man had proven to be remarkably tenacious in continuing their relationship.

His urge to fix what was broken was probably a big part of that. Zack never could dismiss anyone who looked as if they needed a kind thought.

"Yes, General," Zack responded, though Sephiroth could tell in an instant that he wasn't truly aggravated. "You got my message from a couple days ago, right?"

"I did."

"Right." Zack paused to clear his throat as if deciding what he needed to say next. "Anyways, Reeve wanted me and Elena to check out some strange occurrences at the Northern Crater."

Sephiroth listened intently, recognizing the location as the same place he had been defeated by Cloud. It was also where he had attempted to summon Meteor, where the Weapons had awakened, and where he had been brought back to life by the Planet. He wondered if there was any significance in particular centered around it.

"We found a remnant of Jenova," Zack continued in a hesitant voice. "It's not much but it might help in curing Geostigma, or so Reeve thinks."

Sephiroth blinked. "Jenova?" he repeated, heart thundering in his chest. "And you didn't destroy her?"

"And lose the chance to save those infected? Save Denzel?" Zack countered, sounding tired, as if he had had this argument himself already. "Reeve was willing to risk it."

Sephiroth transferred his fingers to his forehead, rubbing at the sudden pulsing vein. "What happened?" he asked, changing the subject.

He wasn't in the mood to begin an argument with Zack. No, the person he needed to address was Reeve. Zack was just the messenger.

"We were attacked by these guys, looked just like you." It was here that Zack paused again, considering. "Are you sure you don't have any brothers Seph? Cause they did a hell of a job kicking my ass six ways from Sunday."

"Not that I recall." Sephiroth leaned back against the door and looked at the ceiling, idly tracing a spidery crack with his eyes. "Hojo never mentioned anything about continuing his experiments. I had thought I was the only one."

Zack sighed into the phone. "Didn't think so. Anyways, that's not what matters. We managed to get Sion out of there with Jenova but they took their time kicking our asses, probably out of spite. I doubt I'd be alive if Valentine hadn't swooped in like some kind of caped crusader and saved us."

"What?" Sephiroth was stunned. Zack was one of the strongest fighters he knew.

"Never mind. It doesn't matter since I'm fine," Zack insisted and he heard something in the background that sounded like a bed squeaking. "I've suffered through worse training for SOLDIER. Hell, you've given me harder blows. Anyways, that doesn't matter. Reeve's sending Elena and I back in to get Denzel and Marlene."

Like hell.

"No," Sephiroth interrupted forcefully, nearly surprising himself with how loud his denial echoed in the hallway. "No. I'll do it."

The protest was already forming before he had even finished. "Seph..." Zack began but Sephiroth's fingers tightened around the phone, plastic and metal creaking ominously.

"I have to, Zack," he interrupted, uninterested in hearing any protest. "I failed to protect them and that means I failed in my promise."

He had told Cloud he would watch over his friends and family. And he had told Denzel he would always protect him. He had to keep those vows or he would be nothing less than a man. Just the monster he always expected to find himself to be.

There was a long silence before Zack answered him. "The sample of Jenova they have here is acting strange," he began quietly. "It keeps moving, as if waiting for something."

Sephiroth felt his throat constricting as he listened, as if something was choking him from the inside. He knew Jenova was searching for him. It was he that she was after, he who had been born the perfect host. She knew that she could easily twist him into her minion again.

"And?"

Zack lost his patience. "Dammit, Seph. Let me be a little concerned," he snapped before immediately pulling back, cursing under his breath and trying again. "Sorry, I'm just... Listen. Be careful. We don't know anything about these boys."

"I don't need to know anything," Sephiroth replied, his tone taking on a flat note. "All I have to do is look in the mirror."

"Seph," Zack warned. "Don't start on that. You're not the same as them."

His hand dropped to his side, dangling loosely. "I am," Sephiroth returned. "Or even if I am not now, I was at one time."

"That doesn't mean you're responsible for them!" Zack argued, sounding frustrated. Sephiroth knew that his best friend was probably pacing at this point, resisting the urge to toss his phone against the wall. "You have no obligation--"

Sephiroth interrupted, a bit more sharply than he intended but it was effective, nonetheless. "You're wrong. I'm the only one who can do this because I am the only one who understands."

A sigh echoed through the phone. "Seph..." Zack paused and redirected. "I know better than to stop you. Just watch yourself. Please?"

It was the 'please' that nearly broke him. "I always do."

"Sometimes I'm not so sure of that. I'll call you later."

Sephiroth made a noncommittal noise in his throat which Zack took as some sort of agreement and ended the call. Sighing, the former General clicked 'end' and let his hand dangle, phone held loosely in his fingers. He felt abnormally drained, his emotions and sanity being pulled through a wringer. He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the door, trying to find something to ground himself. But it was useless.

Feeling a chill, he remembered he was still only half-dressed. Propriety demanded he at least wear a shirt before journeying downstairs and properly thanking Aeris and the others for their help.

Raking a hand through his loose hair, he turned and opened the door, stepping back into the room. Sephiroth drew up short as silver eyes looked up at him, Tseng sitting awake on the edge of the bed. A moment which could only be described as awkward washed through the room, but Tseng was the first to look away.

"We were looking for you," Tseng commented, his voice breaking the uneasy silence. "Denzel and Marlene were worried about you. And you wouldn't answer the phone."

Until Tseng thought to give him the explanation, Sephiroth hadn't even realized that a part of him had been angry about it. Those two should have never been anywhere near the tainted hell that formed his existence. If he hadn't felt the need to research what had been done to him, he would have already burned the place down if only to rid himself of that piece of his past.

"They shouldn't have been there," he responded, hoping his tone came out neutral. Judging from the look on Tseng's face, the obvious flinch, he had failed.

"The same could be said for yourself."

Sephiroth's lips pinched into a frown and another uncomfortable silence descended, thick and heavy in a room that suddenly felt too small. He knew there was a lot between them at the moment, but he simply didn't know where to begin. It was almost overwhelming, this lack of expertise in something that should have been instinct. But anything remotely emotional had been ruthlessly driven from him long ago. So much so that he wasn't certain if he were ever regain any of it.

The Turk raked a hand through his hair, wondering where his hair tie went. "If you had answered your phone, or even stopped disappearing, they wouldn't feel the need to search for you."

"They are children," Sephiroth responded, ignoring the other truths in Tseng's statements. "How difficult is it to say no?"

Another flinch. "You're only saying that because you haven't had to see the look in their eyes." Tseng's head jerked up as he stared directly at Sephiroth, something sharp burning in the depths of his eyes. "Denzel has Geostigma and he's scared. Aeris takes good care of him but he sees you as a father."

"I'm the last person he should consider for that role," he countered bitterly. "I know nothing about the needs of a child."

"Try telling him that and see if you can say the same."

Sephiroth's fingers tightened around his phone and he idly wondered if that soft snick was the sound of it breaking. "You know that I won't. I'm not that cruel."

Silver eyes slipped away from him. "It might be my fault that they were taken; I should have been stronger," Tseng admitted quietly. "But it's not my fault alone, and I'm not going to apologize."

"You were the one there," Sephiroth countered, something in him beating a hurried rhythm that made his skin cold. "I don't see how you can sit there and say that so blatantly!"

"Because I'm tired of being the only one who apologizes," Tseng snapped shortly, fingers of one hand tangling almost painfully in his own hair. "Especially when I'm not particularly sorry."

Taken aback by the vehemence of the other man's response, Sephiroth was stunned, wondering if he had lost sense of the conversation at some point.

"What?"

The Turk sighed, elbows balancing on his knee as he stared at the floor. "I won't be like him," he muttered,almost hesitantly. "So I refuse to apologize for caring. And I won't apologize for trying to show you that you have nothing to prove."

Something inside of Sephiroth chose that moment to freeze, turning him to ice that churned unpleasantly. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, nausea joining the sudden panic.

How could Tseng have known?

When the other man looked up, something in his face softened. He had probably been able to discern the slight note of panic in his lover's voice. "Yes, you do. I won't put voice to a nightmare."

Sephiroth felt like he couldn't breathe, as if fingers were wrapped around his throat. "You lied then," he hissed, knowing in an instant was Tseng was referring to.

Blood drained from his face with the knowledge that his secrets no longer were. How dare he? It wasn't something he ever wanted anyone to know. Just the memory was enough to make him feel unclean.

"I haven't."

"I've not told you anything," Sephiroth insisted through clenched teeth, his emotions swirling between anger and shame. "And you're the only one capable of finding out the truth for yourself."

"I have _not_." Tseng squared his jaw. "At least, not intentionally. I would have preferred your trust but I am also glad that I know because it has kept me from making a mistake and hurting you."

Sephiroth scoffed, but it was more bitter than angry. "No one can hurt me." His gaze shifted to the side as something inside of him twisted and died, turning poisonous and dark. "I was created perfect. Molded unbreakable."

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop recalling all the truths he had been trying to bury. He wanted to move on, to forget what he had been forced to endure. But it kept interfering, invading every attempt to find happiness. He was beginning to wonder if he even had any right to it all.

His voice was dead. "Nothing can break me."

'_Except everything_,' Tseng countered inwardly, feeling a new hatred for Hojo all over again.

"No one is invincible. And that bastard knew it."

The former General's head whipped towards the Turk. "You don't know what you're talking about!" he stated sharply, voice rising louder than he would have preferred. But there was no stopping the surge of _everything_.

A sharp stab of fear and disgust, shame and revile spiked through Tseng's senses and it was all coming from Sephiroth. He knew it must have seemed as if he was backing Sephiroth into a corner. He hadn't intended that from the beginning but he also knew, the would not turn back now.

"Sephiroth..."

"Stop!"

The response was a near shout as Sephiroth's breath came in harsh pants, an almost wild look in his eyes. One hand shot to his head, clutching nearly white-knuckled as he whirled away from Tseng, facing the wall.

"Just... stop. Don't say anymore."

"Dammit, Sephiroth. You can't keep running away from it."

"I'm not running!"

Tseng rose to his feet stiffly. "You are," he insisted. "Pretending nothing happened, locking it all inside... all its doing it poisoning you."

A sharp stab of pain rocketed through Sephiroth's head and he cringed, body instinctively hunching as the Geostigma chose that moment to act up as well. The agony was only a bare ache compared to what had sent him into unconsciousness before, but it tore at his brain and made his skin feel as if it were bathing in shards of ice.

"There's nothing to run from," Sephiroth panted, trying to focus but failing miserably. "There's no reason... it was to make me stronger... they needed a soldier. That's me. The perfect soldier. Perfect..." he trailed off, words coming out more like gibberish than anything coherent.

Tseng felt a part of him breaking at the sight. If Sephiroth were anyone else, he would already be in tears, falling apart. But he was as strong as Hojo made him, slowly shattering bit by bit until nothing would be left of him but the emptiness Hojo crafted. Hojo did his job far too well. Tseng wished he could kill the bastard all over again.

He almost wished he had never seen Sephiroth's past, that he'd never known what the man had endured. He wished that he didn't have to be the one to force Sephiroth to face it. But he also knew he wouldn't give Sephiroth what he wanted. To ignore everything and just keep going. Maybe it was what he needed, maybe it wasn't. But Tseng wasn't going to be Hojo. He wouldn't hurt Sephiroth for the sake of it. He refused to take from Sephiroth what he wasn't entirely ready to give.

But most of all, he wished he knew what to say, what to do to make this right. He wished he knew how to help Sephiroth, how to fix everything that Hojo broke in him, that Jenova helped to crack and shatter further.

Instead, he stood there awkwardly, watching his boyfriend shake and fall apart, feeling the surge of his emotions that were full of such raw pain his own body trembled. And he didn't know what to do. Words failed him, though they would be useless anyways. This wasn't in the Turk handbook, no one ever gave him the Boyfriend Guideline.

He was ashamed of the part of him that longed for Zack to be there. Zack would know what to do, know how to calm Sephiroth. He would probably smile cockily, call him Seph as usual and do something. Tseng envied him for that closeness, for being able to bridge a gap that he sometimes felt he wouldn't ever be able to cross. Even after a year's time, he and Sephiroth weren't all that closer than they were before.

Irritated with his own uselessness, Tseng closed his eyes and sunk to the bed. It creaked beneath him, the room suddenly filled with a deadly silence.

"Shut up."

Sephiroth's muttered declaration gathered his attention until he realized the other man was not talking to him.

Tseng chanced a glance at Sephiroth, only to have a shock of uncertainty and fear zip through him. The former General was trembling, his hands curled so tightly into fists that Tseng could see every tendon standing in stark relief beneath his skin. A drop of blood leaked from his fingers and dripped to the carpet.

"Get out of my head." It was said slowly and carefully, almost as if Sephiroth had to force the words out.

Shock turned to understanding. Jenova. It had to be. She was calling to Sephiroth. He could feel it, a stirring of darkness in Sephiroth's psyche. That black, pulsing mass he had tried to ignore churning and growing in strength.

Worry began to replace the anger and helplessness. Tseng rose to his feet, tentatively calling to Sephiroth but not receiving any indication he had even been heard. That faint fear gained strength as a wave of tension swept through the room, almost like a surge of power. He watched as Sephiroth's back seemed to ripple, and his stomach churned at the sight of the Geostigma, creeping its way up Sephiroth's neck.

He had to do something.

Gathering up his determination, Tseng approached Sephiroth though he had no idea what to do. He hesitantly laid a hand on his lover's shoulder. The effect was instantaneous.

The former General whirled, a fist cocked on automatic response. Tseng only dodged in time because he was half-expecting to get attacked. He grabbed Sephiroth's arm as it shot out and yanked, throwing the man off balance. Locked half in his mind and fighting out of sheer instinct, Sephiroth struggled, lashing out with another fist.

Tseng was already prepared, stepping into Sephiroth's space and hooking a foot around Sephiroth's ankle. With the other male already off balance, it was easy to yank his stance out from under him. He was grateful for Jenova's distraction, otherwise he would have never been successful. With a thud, the two of them crashed to the ground quite painfully, a portrait on the wall rattling noisily.

Landing on top, Tseng wasted no time in grabbing Sephiroth's wrists and pinning them forcefully to the floor. He was under no illusions that he was strong enough to keep Sephiroth pinned but hopefully, he could break through Jenova's hold on him before getting seriously injured. Sephiroth's eyelids fluttered, showing confusion and pain as he groaned, sucking in a heavy breath.

"Back off bitch," Tseng found himself snarling, even as he fought through the swells of nausea Sephiroth's swirling emotions left inside of him. "You're not having him again."

Beneath him, Sephiroth moaned, a pained and garbled noise. He twisted his body in Tseng's grasp but made no real effort to get away. Hurt flashed across his face, likely from the pressure the position was putting on his back but Tseng wasn't taking the chance of releasing him.

Realizing that his words were of no use, Tseng was left with no choice but to attempt something drastic. Every time he caught a glimpse of Sephiroth's eyes, he found flashes of cat-like mako green and it terrified him. He was man enough to admit that a Sephiroth, fully controlled by Jenova, scared the absolute shit out of him.

His heart thundered in his chest, his fingers tightening around Sephiroth's wrist. Steeling himself, Tseng closed his eyes and tried to focus on that curl of ability inside of him. He hadn't managed to completely master it yet, but he was running out of options. Praying to a deity he didn't believe in that he wasn't going to damage his lover permanently, Tseng dove into Sephiroth's mind.

Almost immediately, he was surrounded by Jenova's voice. It was lilting and smooth at first, but then he recognized her cackle for what it truly was. She ranted and raged, attacking him the moment he entered what she considered her domain. He caught a glimpse of that mass of darkness. It had grown larger, starting to crack and wear.

Jenova dug her claws into him, dragging talons into his brain, but Tseng refused to be cowed. He fought back, shoving her existence away with a firm glare. The command that came from his mouth was both silent and wordless but they were effective.

The alien bitch screeched, her wails echoing inside his head painfully. He caught a glimpse of crimson eyes and blue skin, saw silver hair flowing endlessly before her presence abruptly vanished.

Tseng jerked out of Sephiroth's mind, feeling as if he had fought a mad battle. He was covered in sweat, pulse racing wildly. Drawing in a shaky breath, Tseng glanced down at Sephiroth, feeling the man grow slack beneath him.

"Sephiroth?"

"I'm fine," the former general stated curtly, body tensing. Grey-green eyes slanted away, refusing to meet Tseng's gaze.

The Turk eyed him, easing his hold. "You don't--"

Sephiroth's jaw clenched. "I'm _fine_," he reiterated harshly.

The emotions he emitted clearly said otherwise but Tseng wasn't going to push. He wisely moved, rising to his feet and off to the side. He watched as Sephiroth ignored him, rolling into a seated position on the floor. He curled one leg into his body, pulling the other towards him and resting an arm on his knee. Sephiroth purposefully kept his back to Tseng, refraining from even looking at him.

He broke the tense silence. "We need to rescue Denzel and Marlene," he stated, using the voice that Tseng clearly recognized as his "General" tone. "We don't have time for anything else."

The Wutaiian pursed his lips, forcing himself to restrain his anger. "She's getting stronger," he commented. "Why didn't you say that you could hear her?"

"Zack was aware."

"Dammit, Sephiroth. That's not enough and you know it."

He watched the muscles in Sephiroth's back tighten with tension, rippling the darkening bandages. "There's nothing any of you could do. It would be pointless to lay my burdens on you."

His voice was so cold and detached that Tseng was having trouble believing he was the same man. A part of him feared that he was already losing Sephiroth to whatever Hojo made him.

"Pointless," Tseng repeated indignantly, a wave of hurt cresting over him before he could stop it. "Then what am I supposed to be? Just here? Standing around and watching you fall apart because it's _pointless_ otherwise?"

"Tseng. Drop it."

The Turk worked his jaw, staring angrily at Sephiroth's back. "And when do you suggest we talk? In another six weeks when you decide you're going to answer your phone? After the Geostigma's crippled you completely?"

His annoyance, mixing with hurt and making his words bitter, only grew as Sephiroth climbed to his feet. He watched as his lover stalked over to the chair where his clothes lay folded and pulled out his shirt.

"Have you forgotten?" Sephiroth demanded in a clipped tone, shoving his arms through his sleeves. "Marlene and Denzel are out there. I don't have time to stand here."

"You're going after them alone?"

Deft fingers worked quickly at small buttons. "That had been my intention, yes."

"Then I'm going with you."

Sephiroth finally turned and looked at him, that same aura of command gathering around him. "Aeris just healed your shoulder and one of your swords--"

"I don't care," Tseng interrupted, unwilling to allow Sephiroth to go alone. "I've suffered worse before completing a mission. And considering that you've barely have any feeling in that one arm, you're not one to talk." He wasn't going to back down. Not with Jenova already playing her mind games with his lover. Besides, protecting the children had been his responsibility and he had failed miserably.

The man who was Sephiroth and not a leader seemed as if he was going to argue before the hardened look of the General won over. "Fine," he agreed, jerkily grabbing the rest of his belongings. It was the only evidence of his disapproval. "I'm leaving in twenty minutes."

Before Tseng could even respond, Sephiroth walked out of the room, the door swinging entirely open behind him. Left behind, the Turk signed and rubbed a hand over his face.

"That went slightly less than well," he commented under his breath, feeling an incredible migraine descending.

"An understatement, I would say."

The voice startled him. Tseng dropped his hand and looked up, finding his former subordinate standing in the open doorway. Given the situation, it shouldn't have been surprising that Rude was over at Aeris' home.

Tseng's shoulder suddenly ached. "You heard?"

"Not intentionally," Rude responded, folding his hands in front of his body. "Do you want back-up, boss?"

The Turk shook his head. "I'm not your boss anymore, Rude."

Despite the sunglasses, he knew that Rude was giving him that intent stare, one that spoke volumes without saying anything at all.

Tseng waved a hand. "I know. It goes without saying." He paused, rubbing at his forehead before turning to scan the room, seeking something to pull back his hair. "No. You should stay here with Shera and Aeris. For their safety."

"You think they will come here?"

"I do not know." He frowned, mind still shuttering between Sephiroth and the brothers and all else that had been occupying his senses. "But I know Reeve. He'll probably send Reis and Revan here to keep them out of danger. And Nanaki and Yuffie won't likely stay long."

Rude tipped his head. "You have a point."

"Besides," Tseng added with a hint of a smile. "You're an important man now. You have a family to protect."

The new mayor of Rocket Town looked at him. "So do you, boss." Clearing his throat, Rude gave a half-salute. "Take care of him."

With that, Rude left him alone, silent, Turk-like steps taking him to somewhere else within the house. Tseng gave himself a minute to pull himself together before setting off to prepare for heading to the northern continent.

Minutes later, he made his way downstairs, fully cleaned and clothed, his remaining Tenken belted at his side. The loss of the other was something he hadn't given himself time to mourn. The twin Tenken were more than important to him; they were the last remnants of his parents. The swords were one of the few items his family had taken with them in their exile.

They were irreplaceable.

"Tseng."

The Wutaiian looked up to find Aeris stepping out in front of him, Midori on one hip and a wrapped object in her other hand.

He blinked in confusion. "Aeris?"

She gestured towards him, a gentle smile on her lips. "I know that one of Tenken was broken," the widower commented, pushing the item towards him.

He took it with some confusion, unwrapping the white cloth that bound it. Silver eyes widened in surprise as his gaze fell on a sword. It was a slightly different style than Kasai but near the same length.

Tseng drew it partially from the sheath, admiring the blade. It was polished and sharp, if not a bit worn. It had been used well. He tilted the sword towards the light, the silver edge catching it and outlining the wavy pattern along the metal.

"It's called Yoshiyuki," Aeris explained in a fond tone. "It used to be Cloud's. We stored a few of his weapons here after the fight against Sephiroth."

He looked up at her, fingers curling around the hilt. "But don't you want to save it for Midori? Or keep it for yourself?" he asked, despite every desire to wield it.

She smiled. "If Midori wants to be like her father that badly, I've plenty of others that once were his. He left enough of himself behind."

"Thank you." The words weren't honestly enough to express his gratitude. "I can fight with one sword but... my style is more effective with two."

"I thought so," Aeris responded, taking the cloth back. Midori gurgled on her hip, inspiring a smile from Tseng. "I know it's not an adequate replacement for the one you lost but..."

Tseng shook his head. "No. It's perfect."

Relief spread across her features, chasing away some of the worry lines that had gathered there. "Then I"m glad." Her eyes flickered past him to the window where she could just see Sephiroth outside, examining his bike. "Take care of him, ne?"

He sighed. "He doesn't make it easy."

"Neither did Cloud." Aeris tucked the cloth under her arm, shifting Midori from one hip to the other. Two different colored eyes continued to watch Tseng as if fascinated. "Don't let him get killed."

"Easier said than done."

Tseng curled his fingers around his new katana, the somewhat worn hilt rather welcoming. He had a feeling it would suit him just perfectly. He slipped it next to Koori. Yoshiyuki was slightly heavier than Kasai but the weight wasn't uncomfortable. A near perfect fit.

There was a pause in the conversation. "Tseng... is everything all right?" She hesitated. "I heard yelling."

Shame nearly colored his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I did not intend--"

Aeris lifted her free hand, cutting him off. "I'm not upset, just worried." Her eyes took on the look of a mother's, outlining the dark circles from concern under her eyes. "Bring them back. I know they're waiting."

"We will," Tseng vowed, because he had no intention of failing again. "I promise."

"Good. Now get out of here." Her voice was good-natured however.

Tseng offered her a smile, thin though it was. "Take care," he countered, before turning to leave. Midori waved a small fist at him in parting.

Stepping outside, Sephiroth looked up at his approach. There was no warmth in his expression, nothing but the General. "We have to meet Highwind in twenty minutes. Are you ready?" he asked as he climbed onto his bike.

Tseng nodded.

"Then let's go."

* * *

a/n: I hope you liked it! Reviews help to fuel my lagging inspiration! Thanks!


	13. Chapter 8: The Shame of Defeat

**Shattered Children: Chapter Eight**

**The Shame of Defeat**

The ride was mercifully brief, the wind preventing them from talking. Tseng enjoyed being so near to Sephiroth but, considering how tense things were between them, he was glad for the silence. Tseng wasn't sure he was ready to try and brave a conversation with his lover.

They arrived at the airship within record time, Cid already having the loading platform waiting for them. Sephiroth parked Odin in his usual space and headed for the cockpit while Tseng went his separate way, towards the observation deck. He wasn't given a second glance as he passed several of Cid's crew, most of them accustomed to the Captain's many and varied passengers.

By the time he had arrived at the deck, he felt the ship rise into the air, giving him the usual unsettling jump in his belly. It was something to which he never could get accustomed. He stepped onto the platform, wind whipping his hair around his face, and promptly reached for a tie to pull it back.

Luckily, it was deserted. He really didn't want any observers. Hair sufficiently restrained, Tseng set his hand on the Yoshiyuki and drew it from its sheath. Silver eyes trained over the gleaming blade, testing the weight in his grasp. It was solid, a perfect counterbalance to Koori Tenken.

While he would miss the contrary elements of fire and ice he could pull from the entire set, he supposed the Yoshiyuki would be an adequate replacement.

Taking up a stance that he easily recalled from long months spent in training, Tseng gave the sword a few practice swings. It cleanly clove the air with a faint whistle, moving smoothly in his grasp. His lips twitched, nearly approaching a smile as he went through a series of maneuvers, trying to adapt to the different feel of the blade.

He soon drew Koori and went through several more practice moves, learning to blend the two blades until they swung as one. Koori and Yoshiyuki began to sing as they memorized each other, greeting and making acquaintances. Encouraging to blades to fight as one was oft like introducing two people with the intent of making friends. They had to find a common ground first.

Ten minutes into his normal routine – a route that normally took the better part of an hour – he felt his shoulder twinge. He paused, idly sheathing the Koori, and rubbed at the offended muscle. It was still a bit sore apparently, Aeris' speed healing only able to bring him so much relief. He would have to fight through it, however. He couldn't afford the weakness right now.

The Yoshiyuki went slightly limp in his grasp, dangling from his fingers as he tried to dig into the damaged muscle. It was an awkward position and Tseng had the feeling he was doing more harm than he was actually helping.

"Does it still hurt?"

Sephiroth's voice came as a pleasant surprise. He dropped his hand, glancing over his shoulder to see the former General stepping out onto the deck.

"It's stiff," he corrected as Sephiroth approached. "But I'll work it out."

To his utmost surprise, the moment his lover was near enough, he lifted a hand and settled it on Tseng's shoulder. Deft fingers massaged with surprising skill, kneading into the knotted muscle and easing tensions. It hurt like bloody hell, but it had the desired effect of getting rid of the stiffness.

Tseng idly sheathed his blade. "Thank you."

A moment of silence followed that to his relief wasn't the least bit awkward. Sephiroth's emotions had finally muted, no longer swirls of torrential madness. Now they hovered near contemplation and quiet acceptance. The anger and irritation was gone, leaving Tseng to breathe a sigh of respite. His head would be free of painful ache, at least for the moment.

Sephiroth continued to massage his shoulder, long after the initial discomfort had faded, and was the first to speak. "I can't talk about it right now," he began quietly, voice a soft rumble. "If I do... no, I can't afford that weakness."

"It's a weakness?"

"It's a way in," Sephiroth replied after another hesitation. "For her, I mean. The past. The things I don't want to remember... they leave me open."

The relief that flooded through Tseng should have made him guilty. But it didn't, because he was merely comforted by the fact that Sephiroth was not intending to end their relationship. He turned, Sephiroth's hand sliding from his shoulder and down his arm. Before Sephiroth could speak, Tseng curled his hand around the back of the man's neck and dragged his head down for a kiss.

Hesitant at first, Sephiroth's tongue finally met his, hot and spicy, curling and hungry. Their mouths joined eagerly, Sephiroth taking full part in the kiss. Tseng remembered how the former general had been a year ago, tentative and unsure, letting Tseng direct everything. Now, Sephiroth had found his own dominance, setting the Turk's blood to boiling.

Sephiroth's fingers tightened around Tseng's arm, fulfilling the urge to draw the shorter man towards him. Their bodies came together as the kiss deepened, tongues tangling and lips smacking noisily. Tseng was absolutely certain he would never get enough of Sephiroth's taste, a mix of something darkly spicy, like nutmeg or cinnamon. It sent trills down his spine.

Yet, this was not the place to be taking things further. With much reluctance, he drew away from the flavor of Sephiroth's mouth.

"Fine," he said, forcing the words out as his head floated in a satisfying wave of pleasure. "I won't ask. But only if you don't try to leave me behind and do this on your own."

Green-grey eyes shifted to the side as Sephiroth exhaled. "You're here already. It would be pointless to try and force you to stay on the ship."

"Damn right." Tseng lowered his hand, briefly squeezing Sephiroth's shoulder. "We're in this together now. You're not alone."

Sephiroth was quiet for a moment, as though absorbing this information. "I tend to forget that sometimes," he said softly, face pinching in unwanted recollection. "I am so used to what that man has pressed on me that I forget I don't have to push everyone away."

"I thought Zack had already proven otherwise?"

He chuckled lightly, remembering those days all those years ago. "Zack gave me no choice in the matter," he clarified, some of the darkness fading from his expression. "He forcibly inserted himself into my life and refused to let go."

"Ah," Tseng said with an inclination of his head. "I was a choice then."

"Fishing for compliments?" Sephiroth posed in an amused tone, sliding his eyes back towards his lover. "I didn't think you were the type."

Tseng resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it would have been juvenile. "There's nothing wrong with wanting a little reassurance," he stated logically.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Huffing, Tseng sought to change the subject. "Why did you come out here anyways? I thought you were talking with Highwind."

Sephiroth's smirk widened, which on him looked damn sexy. It made Tseng want to forget about the fact they were on the airship in plain view. "He's more irritable than usual. I left him alone, cursing at his crew."

"Likely worried about Valentine," Tseng mused aloud, slipping into Commander mode, "though I don't see why. He is more than capable of taking care of himself."

Sephiroth shook his head, remembering certain events that had been described to him. "While I have the utmost faith in every Turk I know, it is different when it concerns one's lover. A little worry is not to be unexpected."

"No, I suppose not."

The Turk Commander couldn't help but wonder if Sephiroth ever worried about him and his safety. Probably not. The other man was probably sure that Tseng could more than adequately protect himself. No, Tseng did most of the worrying in their relationship. He was certain of it.

The Valenwind dipped slightly as it hit a bout of hard wind, attracting their attention. Sephiroth lifted his gaze, looking past Tseng and over his head to the approaching continent. Just past his sight, he could see the tips of the trees and the mist surrounding them, obscuring anything else.

"We're nearly there."

A noncommittal noise emerged from the Turk's throat. "We had better get ready," he responded, greatly disappointed that they didn't have longer to simply talk like this. A rare moment of peace without the past cropping up or the undermined future.

Sephiroth nodded. "Yes."

In the resulting pause, Tseng turned to leave. He hoped to raid Cid's storehouse and locate something of a healing nature, or maybe even a defensive materia or two. His stock was packed with attack magic, and he knew it wouldn't kill him to have a Cure or Heal, even if they were only low level.

However, before he could even finish moving, Sephiroth had grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Their lips met again, more deeply and encouraging than before. It was an assuring kiss, one of brief parting that implied there would be another meeting. It warmed something inside of Tseng, reassuring him that though all was not perfectly well between he and Sephiroth, it was not over.

They would work it out.

Sephiroth ended the kiss with a parting nip to Tseng's bottom lip, gently unwinding his fingers from their stern hold. "I'll join you in a moment," he said lightly, though he licked his lips and his eyes were slightly glazed.

"I'll be at Odin," Tseng replied, already turning back towards the door.

Sephiroth watched him go, the look on his face unreadable. One hand fell to the Murasame at his side, gloved hand wrapping around a hilt that was becoming familiar to him once more.

Once Tseng was gone from his sight, he turned towards the approaching continent and forest, trying to ignore the trickle of dread that was spinning through him. In the back of his mind, Jenova ranted and raged at her defeat, yet also tried to croon softly, to whisper to him. He blocked it all.

Somehow, Sephiroth had the feeling it was going to be no simple rescue.

* * *

Kadaj smirked, sweeping his eyes over the gathered children, all those in Junon inflicted with the Geostigma. He could read the pain in their faces, but also the hope, the eagerness. They looked to him with innocent eyes, huddling together on the opposite side of the shore. Denzel, Sephiroth's little brat was with them, but he had separated out Marlene.

She stood behind him with Loz. Even though she had no Geostigma, Kadaj was sure they could find some use for her. If anything, she would serve as hefty bait to attract Sephiroth. Both she and the brown-haired kid.

Inside, Mother was cooing in delight. She was purring at the sight of all the gathered young ones, able to feel the grind and pulse that their bodies emanated. The sickly sores and dark presence of her cells mixed with their Lifestream. It amused her.

As for Kadaj himself? Deep down, buried beneath layers Mother could not reach, his stomach churned with nausea. He hated himself a bit more with each passing moment. These children... they only wanted to be healed, to be made better, to live. But that wasn't why they had been brought to this continent. That wasn't why Mother had called them.

They had been swayed by pretty lies and empty promises. It wasn't all that difficult to convince those who were in pain, who wanted to live. It had only taken a gentle voice, a fake sense of understanding. And they trusted so willingly, believed so easily.

Kadaj understood that. The wanting to be helped, the needing to be saved, he'd felt it himself in his younger years, crying by himself in the middle of the night, wishing for the pain to stop. Most of the children had the same look in their eyes that he knew he found in the mirror every day, when he dared to look.

In that same deep, hidden part of himself, far from Mother's prying eyes, Kadaj wished he actually knew what would heal them. Maybe it could heal him, too. It was faint hope, barely managing to linger in the face of everything.

But then Mother would cackle and trace her nails down his brain and he would shudder. He would pull away from that safe portion of his heart and return to her commands, lest she find it and rip out what few happy memories he had. Of Kyle. Of being saved by that woman. Of a few precious moments of freedom.

Kadaj knew there wasn't going to be a happy ending. Not for he and his brothers. He would be grateful in the end if someone dealt them a quick death, a freedom from their trapped existences. Though, he knew, it was probably more than they deserved. Some acts did not deserve forgiveness. He had the feeling most of the atrocities he was committing and still had plans to perpetrate were of that kind.

His skull suddenly pulsed and Kadaj sucked in a heavy breath against the pain. Mother had noticed his brief pause and was not pleased. Steeling himself, Kadaj withdrew and plastered a smirk on his face. His eyes gleamed a bright green as he whirled towards the crowd of children, pacing back and forth on the shore of the pole.

They watched him with wary hope.

He had nothing but madness to give them.

"Mother has given me a very special gift!" Kadaj announced, a faint laugh spilling from his lips that mixed insanity and despair. "The power to fight... against a planet that torments humanity! Torments us!"

He knew he had their attention when a few shifted. Kadaj lowered his face, ignoring stabs of guilt in the part of him that remained human. He concentrated on his audience, four dozen or so children. Hopeful young ones. They would be smashed in Mother's will.

"That's right," Kadaj crooned, dropping his tone to something coaxing and gentle, to encourage children to listen. "She gave this gift to all her children. You and I, who are brethren. Brothers and sisters chosen when we inherited Mother's legacy from the Lifestream!"

He ignored the part of him that screamed of falsehood. Inherited? Not likely. Injected and bathed in it, forced into his blood stream, sinking into his skin. Like a dozen angry knives and a thousand piercing needles. Scalpels cutting and tests, so many tests. Inherited? Kadaj would have rather died than inherit anything like that.

He said none of this, of course, his lips instead continuing to spill blather that would sway their little innocent and hopeful minds. Mother fed him the words, fed them her intention.

"But... the planet doesn't approve of that at all. It's doing everything it can to hold us back."

Kadaj paused, shaking his head before gesturing out towards the children with a faint hand. It was coaxing and soothing. _See? This is me. I hold no danger, I am a friend. Come to me, oh innocent eyes. I bring you no harm. _That was what the motion claimed.

Madness, all of it.

"That's why it's racking our bodies with pain," he said harshly, reminding them of their agony, of the friends they had already lost. Some stirred at his harsh tone, but he didn't stop. "That's why the planet is filling our hearts with doubt. To trick us, to steal us away from Mother."

He turned towards them, arms sweeping wide for effect. They watched him avidly, some bouncing on their heels. Kadaj's eyes settled on Denzel just once, saw the indecision, the teeth chewing on a bottom lip. He had to coax this one, if no one else, to convince their brother to join as well.

"I will heal you," Kadaj told them, watching as their eyes shimmered in gratitude. "With one step, I can heal you. And together, my brothers and sisters, together we shall go to Mother! Together!"

_Lies!_ His heart screamed, the last part of him that remained human. _Lies and deceit, you shameless creature_.

Yes. He was shameless. Because he had sold his soul to the devil, if he'd ever had one to give. He was an experiment. Oh, human in the base sense of the word, but also a creature, a monster of Jenova and scientist blood. He had been crafted this way. So, beast he would become.

As if sensing his reluctance, Mother stirred. Her energy collected around him and he felt it, the black emittance of her hatred and fury. It thrummed through his body, in his fingertips, out through the tips of his hair. It writhed and coalesced.

_**Into the water, my child**_, Mother insisted. _**Show them the way**_.

And he could only obey.

His boots crunched over sand and rock both. Kadaj stepped forward, heading deeper and deeper into the crystal clear and cold depths. He could feel it even through the leather, stopping only when it reached his waist. He watched as the black spread from him as if he were tainting the water with his presence. It made sense after all. He was a creature; here it was pure. There, far beneath him, the Ancient City rested, radiating purity. He was defiling it.

_**Tell them, my son**_, Mother urged, louder this time, more pressing, enough that his tongue worked before words were on it. _**Tell them what to do.**_

Kadaj lifted his head, smirk never leaving his lips. "We will join as a family and strike back at the planet," he said coolly, hands dropping to the still surface, fingers just barely dipping beneath.

They were listening. He had their full attention.

"Do as I do."

They were watching.

Dipping his hands into the water, Kadaj cupped the darkened liquid and drew it up to his lips. He hesitated for only a minute before he drank of the contaminated water, the liquid sliding like oil down his throat.

His stomach instantly roiled at the metallic flavor, like fresh blood and agony, like the labs he had been saved from. It was like green mako, burning through his veins and the tearing of a beast's claws in his skin. It took all Kadaj had to hide his cringe from Mother, returning to smirk.

When he looked up, the children moved as if entranced, following his lead. They moved into the water, splashes and ripples following in their wake. One by one, they drank of the water and he could feel their life forces thrumming with his, their spirits joining with Mother's.

Denzel, who stood at the head of the pack, almost appeared to be hesitating. The fingers of one hand were wrapped around something that dangled from his neck. Silver metal of some kind, Kadaj did not know. He watched as the boy seemed to come to a decision, releasing the necklace.

Behind Kadaj, Marlene stirred. "Denzel, don't," she pleaded, but her voice was too soft for him to hear. Either that, or he purposefully ignored her.

Denzel's hands dropped to the surface. Every move was slow and cautious. Hands dipped into the water, cupping the blackened liquid. He looked at it, weighed it, decided and pondered. The water didn't even drip between his fingers, quivering in his grasp, just waiting for the decision to be made.

Kadaj watched as the boy brought the tainted liquid to his lips and began to drink, swallowing deeply. The Geostigma sore on his forehead seemed to ripple in appreciation, darkening faintly. Kadaj wondered if Mother's plan at least eased their pain, made it easier to bear, or if her cells only took over their bodies, making them able to feel the agony and yet have no control. He knew how that was.

"Denzel," Marlene whimpered, concern etched into her voice.

Kadaj didn't dare turn around to look at her. He didn't need his guilt any heavier. He mentally apologized to the girl.

_Can't you see? I haven't any choice. None of us do. We are merely toy soldiers, dancing along to Mother's whim. _

Watching as the rest of the children drank and Marlene sobbed quietly behind him, Kadaj's hand drew into a fist. He ignored Mother's triumphant laugh, and the hollowness it all produced inside of him. The frost was creeping towards the part of his heart he had shoved aside. He fought to keep it warm.

Kadaj knew their brother was coming for them. After all, Mother was waiting.

* * *

Odin rumbled loudly as they shot between the silvery trees, frozen branches creaking in the passing wind. Tseng was glad for the rush of the air and the roar of the motor. It kept them from talking to each other. The awkwardness and gulf between them had only grown stronger and wider. Was it foolish of them to think it would work?

The talk on the airship had been helpful, but the fact remained that something hung between them. It took the form of Sephiroth's past, events that he held no control over but still managed to shame him. It was a nasty Chocoboro, golden feathers and acidic breath that everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist, even as it picked them off one by one.

Tseng wanted to help, but he didn't think that was possible. Even for the two of them, he had no place in that. Besides, they had mutually agreed to concentrate on rescuing the children. Everything else would have to remain in the background, slowly seething and growing worse.

Biting back a moody sigh, Tseng pushed himself against the warmth of Sephiroth's back, the chill of the rushing air attacking him. He forced himself to ignore the beginnings of arousal being that close to Sephiroth stirred within him. He couldn't wait for all of the nonsense to be over so that he and Sephiroth could finally sit down and talk. Get everything out into the open.

Though he worried what might happen in the end. Would they have to fight another Sephiroth? Or worse, would they have to fight their Sephiroth, his lover? Would they be facing Jenova, or something worse? And these brothers, these three boys, what were they? Sion still hadn't been able to find any research pertaining to their presence, and he suspected that it had all burned when Midgar was destroyed.

That would have been their luck.

"Shit!"

Sephiroth's curse pierced the air in the same moment that he suddenly slammed on the brakes and jerked the handles. Tseng hung on for dear life as Odin abruptly twisted and sent them into a dangerous spiral. He felt Sephiroth's muscles tighten and knew that he would have to act quick.

Tensing his own muscles, he took a deep breath and jumped, landing with cat-like agility on his feet several feet away. His knee threatened to buckle however, and it was only with great reflex that he kept his stance. Tseng jerked his head up, catching sight of Sephiroth leaping from the bike in the same fashion, landing with a crouch as his bike skittered off into the woods, crashing into a tree beyond their sight.

Heaving, Tseng finally saw what had forced them into that dangerous tumble. He straightened as children fell from the trees around them, completely surrounding him and Sephiroth. Tseng's hands fell to his swords as he registered their blank expressions. They were the ones that had gone missing from Junon; he recognized a few faces from the files.

Nearby, he saw Sephiroth stiffen and shifted his gaze past the other man. A low growl emanated in Tseng's throat as he caught sight of the silver-haired boy Kadaj, Loz noticeable only by his absence. Tseng wondered where the other two were, or what they might be plotting. These were the creatures that had tortured Elena and Zack, that had beaten him and stolen the children.

He searched the crowd for Denzel and Marlene but didn't immediately see either. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. Every sense screamed that something was wrong, that he should be on his guard.

"I'm glad you could make it," Kadaj announced, striding forward as he twirled his double-bladed sword in his grasp.

He was completely ignoring Tseng's presence, his gaze focused only on Sephiroth. A weaponless Sephiroth. The former General hadn't had time to withdraw Murasame from its compartment before they were forced to abandon the bike.

"I only came for the children," Sephiroth stated lowly, his movements matching Kadaj as they began to circle each other, looking, for all appearances, like siblings having an argument, "not for anything else you may think you can coax me into."

Tseng swallowed thickly. He took a step closer to Sephiroth. Kadaj's eyes shot his direction and just that one, poisoned look had him freezing in his tracks. Those eyes were silently telling him that this wasn't his battle, that he was to stay out of a family quarrel. It froze his feet, set his nerves to numbness.

He didn't draw Koori Tenken or Yoshiyuki as he intended, instead he was forced only to watch as his unarmed lover and a madman squared off.

Kadaj laughed, turning towards the children and gesturing broadly. "See this man?" he asked, motioning to Sephiroth, "He's our brother."

"I have no family," Sephiroth growled, though he largely went unheard. He missed the barely stifled sound of hurt from the frozen Turk behind him.

The younger male turned towards him, a sneer decorating his lips as he shook his head, silver hair a curtain shielding his eyes. "But, alas, in our happy flock, he's what you would call a black sheep."

The strange sword was lifted, pointed directly at Sephiroth. "What say you, brother? Fight me with your fists? Save the children? Turn your back on your family?"

Sephiroth's hands clenched into fists as he fought against the rising tide of Jenova inside of him. The proximity to Kadaj was only making her louder, her coaxing fiercer. She was trying to drag out his memories, show him all the reasons he should hate, and he was staggering.

He stared at the boy who could be his brother, recognizing the madness behind eyes that would have mirrored his own, once upon a time. "Fight her." Sephiroth found himself saying, or more accurately, growling out the words. Because he had been in the boy's position before, he knew what Kadaj was struggling against. "It's not impossible."

Something faltered briefly, a faint flicker across the kid's irises before it was blinked away and the hard visage returned. The blade remained steady, unfaltering. "Your words cannot sway me, Brother," Kadaj sneered, his face twisting into something ugly and unfeeling, full of hatred.

It was Jenova's face. Sephiroth knew it all too well. It twisted memories inside of him, making his belly roil and twist uncomfortably. Her voice was a louder push and pull in the back of his mind and he feared he couldn't ignore her for much longer. She was going to drag him down no matter what it took, even if she lost her precious pawns, because nothing mattered to Jenova, the harbinger of destruction, but chaos. Chaos and death. She was ten times more dangerous than Balaam could have ever been.

Sephiroth chanced another glance at his fallen bike and the sword he knew was still attached to it, inwardly calculating how long it would take for him to get to it. Tseng's presence was on the back of his mind, and the children were there, a distraction and a worry. There were so many things to accomplish, and, with Jenova raking across his brain, he wondered if he could even manage one of them.

"Join us." Kadaj urged, perhaps thinking that Sephiroth was merely indecisive. His lips quirked into a cruel grin. "Return to your mother."

It was a lie, nothing but a pure, painful lie that he had been forced to endure his entire life. "She is _not_ my mother," Sephiroth growled beneath his breath, fingers clenching into fists. "She is _nothing_!"

Kadaj's eyes widened visibly, Jenova flashing immediately within his irises and turning them a glowing jade. The sword jerked in his arm and Sephiroth danced out of the way, barely avoiding a nick in the throat. The threat, however, was evident in Kadaj's clenched jaw. Tension rose thick and uncomfortable on the air.

The sound of small feet padding across the ground, sending tiny rocks skittering, suddenly broke through the quiet.

"Sephy! Mr. Tseng!"

Marlene's voice.

Sephiroth swung his eyes toward her, watching the little girl run in the direction of the Turk. A sense of relief swept through him at seeing she was unharmed, but it was short-lived as he set sight on the two men dropping down behind Tseng. They could also be his brothers, the proclaimed Loz and Yazoo, he could only assume. Their lips were twisted in cruel grins even as Tseng whirled to face them.

The former general's battle senses suddenly screamed at him, and it was only his quick thinking that saved him from a painful injury. He twisted to the side, deftly avoiding Kadaj's jab towards his abdomen. The boy immediately regained his balance and dove for another harsh blow, and Sephiroth tossed a spell at him out of sheer reflex.

Jagged shards of ice flew from his fingers as he jerked to the side, throwing himself to the ground. Sephiroth rolled out of the way of Kadaj's fierce strike, feeling the air whoosh around him from the intensity of the swipe. He was on his feet in a matter of seconds, unsurprised to find that the boy had easily dodged his hastily thrown magic. The ice had embedded itself in a nearby tree, luckily managing not to harm any of the children.

Sephiroth hastily attempted to scan the crowd, believing that if Marlene were there than Denzel must have been as well. But in the brief moment of respite he had been granted, he couldn't spot the head of tousled brown hair anywhere. Then the second was gone as Kadaj hurtled towards him, blade at the ready.

"You are our brother!" the boy screamed, boots scraping across the ground and sword whistling through the air as he swung it.

The former General easily danced out of the way, recognizing that Kadaj was not trying to kill him. Jenova didn't want him dead, after all. She only wanted his power. Kadaj was merely trying to keep him off balance and distracted, far away from his sword which would have evened the playing field.

Sephiroth could only wonder where Kadaj began and Jenova ended, so thickly had she stuck her claws in the young man's brain.

Weapons came together somewhere outside of his sight, Tseng battling against both Yazoo and Loz. He caught glimpses of their fight, the flash of blades and the sound of limbs creaking and cracking. Bodies collided with the trees only to bounce forward and attack once more. Even magic was being flung, Tseng resorting to his materia when necessary.

Sephiroth raked his eyes through the gathered children, and then absolutely froze for a moment. He spied Denzel, standing there amongst the others and staring into nothing. His eyes were strangely blank and Sephiroth's heart stuttered at the hint of green in normally brown depths.

What on Gaia had happened?

But Sephiroth lost that glimpse in the next second as he dodged another swing, turning to focus his attention on Kadaj. He could only hope that Marlene had done as asked and had run away.

He ducked backwards, dodging a fluid swing and mentally summed up his materia, wishing he'd had the foresight to equip something status-altering. Then again, it probably wouldn't work on Kadaj, just as they didn't work on himself.

"We are your family." Kadaj hissed at him, steps measured and deliberate as his eyes flashed in constant flux. "You cannot possibly belong with them. They are _human._" The contempt in his tone was all Jenova, words laced with hatred and disdain.

It was nothing Sephiroth hadn't heard before, her own attempts at convincing him. "So are we," he argued, wondering if his words could even pierce the madness.

When he had lost his own mind, not even Zack's voice could get through to him. There had been nothing but destruction and insanity, a craving for blood and a desire to see everything burn.

Leather gloved fingers tightened around a hilt. "No, we are monsters." Kadaj countered.

Despite not wanting to believe, the words made Sephiroth's heart stutter. It all sounded so painfully familiar, as if he were being thrust so many years into the past. The same fears for himself, the same pains. They were welling up again. He had been asking himself if he belonged, if he truly deserved to live.

"Monsters," Kadaj repeated, seemingly oblivious to Sephiroth's inner turmoil. Or perhaps he was only stoking a flame. "And monsters like us should stick together. _Family_ should be together!"

"I have no family!" Sephiroth yelled, trying to edge his way towards his sword even as Kadaj circled around him, anger lighting his eyes.

Not truly. His mother and father were dead to him, even if Lucrecia still existed somewhere in her corner of the world. He was as alone now as he had been then, with friendships that were dear, but couldn't always be there. He was a failure of a friend and a lover. Sephiroth didn't deserve to have family, and he understood that painfully well.

"You have us. And we need you, brother. Mother needs you," Kadaj insisted, and for a moment in there, his words almost sounded like the truth.

It passed as quickly as it stabbed through Sephiroth's emotions, leaving him reeling both mentally and physically. He dodged a wild swing that clearly wasn't any attempt at being deadly and idly tossed out a medium-powered lightning spell. It whizzed past Kadaj, striking against an ice-white tree and cracking the trunk in half. There was a snap as the tree groaned and gradually began to fall.

"Jenova is only using you," Sephiroth told the boy, gritting it out through clenched teeth.

On the edge of his conscious, he knew that Tseng was still fighting the other two brothers and fought against his concern. The Turk could handle himself, even if he did have two opponents. Sephiroth dodged to the left, getting closer and closer to his sword. Soon, it would no longer be a one-way battle.

The sound of Kadaj's laughter dragged his attention back to the boy. It was high and loud, sounding just a bit insane.

"I know that!" Kadaj spat at him, darting closer and forcing Sephiroth to backpedal right into a tree. "But you know more than I how futile it is to fight her." Something like regret and despair filled his tone and for a moment, Sephiroth saw a glimpse of the true Kadaj. "There's no point in it at all."

A cry of pain split the evening and Sephiroth's head jerked, catching sight of Tseng who had been thrown into a tree with an angry snap, his hands held loosely onto his katana, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead. Even so, Tseng wasn't completely losing. Loz was lapping at a cut on his arm, part of his leather ensemble shredded, while Yazoo frowned at singed hair, a definite limp in one leg. It was still obvious, though, that he wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer.

"We share a father," Kadaj continued, his voice getting raspy and deep, almost as if he were being purposefully seductive, "we share Mother. What more do we need for family?"

Sephiroth stiffened, something inside of him curdling with nausea. "Hojo is your father?" he demanded, remembering all too well what he had suffered under that man.

The boy's lips curled into an unattractive snarl, bits of his true persona slipping through. "Don't say that man's name!"

He lashed out with the hilt of his sword but Sephiroth moved quickly, capturing the arm in an instant. His fingers locked around Kadaj's wrist and the boy's sword dangled between them, reminding them of its dangerous presence.

"Aren't you angry?" Kadaj demanded, his words proof that he wasn't fighting Jenova too hard. "How they've treated you? What the planet has put you through? The pain?"

His free hand dropped to Sephiroth's arm, as if he knew the Geostigma was there, bruising the skin. Kadaj squeezed, and though the pressure was weak, it was enough to cause Sephiroth pain. He clenched his teeth as the agony triggered everything else, a flash of Jenova in his mind.

"_Two more doses!" _

"_But Professor, he can't--"_

"_Have you grown deaf? I said two more!" _

_Burning pain, ripping pain. Blood, he felt it dripping from him. He felt the agonizing pressure tearing through his body, and he was dirty, nothing that could ever be cleaned. Even if he boiled his body and tore out the memory, it would always be there, an oily reminder. He could taste the bitterness on his tongue. _

Sephiroth jerked to reality with a gasp, bile rising in his throat and threatening to spill from his lips. His eyes rolled as his head lolled against the tree behind him. He could still feel Kadaj's fingers digging into the Geostigma, sending more pain spiking through him.

Jenova cackled merrily in his mind, gleefully asking that he join her. _**The pain, it could end this quickly, my son**__, _she told him. And, by the gods, a small part of him almost listened. A part of him was more than ready to give in.

"Sephy!"

Jerking from the reverie he had almost been drawn into, Sephiroth caught sight of Marlene standing nearby, little hands clenched into fists. She looked very worried and equally as frightened, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Run!" he shouted, prepping his own body for a counterattack against Kadaj. "Grab Denzel and run, Marlene!"

"But--"

"Go!"

She jumped with a squeak and darted into the bushes with a rustle of leaves. He would apologize later for being so harsh, provided that he survived, but at the moment he only cared about her safety. Yet, the other children still stood there, as still as statues, paying no attention to the falling trees or the battles, as if they were nothing but mindless puppets.

Then fingers were digging into his arm again and Kadaj was speaking. "Pay attention, dear brother," he said slyly, voice like dripping poison, "this is where you lose your chance to choose."

Uncertain what Kadaj meant by that, Sephiroth felt a flutter of worry surge up inside of him. He tightened his grip on Kadaj's wrist, feeling the bones grind within his grasp, even as he pressed forward, putting the both of them off-balance. They stumbled away from the tree and Sephiroth snatched his arm free from Kadaj's grasp, powering up another ice spell.

He had every intention of slamming it into Kadaj's chest, but the boy twisted away at the last possible moment and it missed, careening off into a nearby tree. The rough twist jerked his arm free from Sephiroth and they were separated once more, chest heaving and battle humming through their veins.

"Denzel!" Tseng's voice.

"I think, Brother, that our prey is trying to escape." Another voice, likely one of the brother's. Probably the long-haired one.

Sephiroth tried not to look, but his concern won out. He hastily dodged an attack as Kadaj sprang at him, and caught a glimpse of Tseng. The Turk was reeling from the combined effort of the two brothers, and a powerful blow from Loz sent the Turk falling backwards. He crashed heavily into the ground, coughing and sputtering as he struggled to draw in a breath.

The moment of distraction was all Kadaj needed.

The boy appeared out of nowhere, in a flash that was likely quickened by Haste. Kadaj smirked as his fist slammed into Sephiroth's skull, causing sparks to fly across the former General's vision. He reeled from the blow and was unable to block the next, which sent him collapsing to the ground. He landed harshly on his left arm and pain spiked through his body, adding to the disorientation.

Leather boots crunched over the ground, Kadaj appearing in front of him with blade raised. Sephiroth looked up at the boy who was his brother, half-expecting his death.

He wasn't prepared for the crimson blur to appear out of nowhere, or the sudden pop-pop of a handgun. Kadaj threw himself to the side to avoid the bullets. Magic filled the air as an Aero ripped through the understory of the forest, forcing Yazoo and Loz away from their target.

The mysterious coalescence of scarlet didn't take form, instead swirling towards an unconscious Tseng. The Turk didn't move as he was slung over what might have been a shoulder beneath the blur of fabric. More bullets fired from a nearly imperceptible gun, forcing the three brothers backwards. The smear of crimson hurtled Sephiroth's way, but he couldn't even move.

He groaned as he felt himself being picked up, an arm slung over the opposite shoulder of his lover, dimly spotting long black hair and grey eyes. Valentine. What the hell was the man doing here? And how could he do that?

Sephiroth felt himself being half-carried, half-dragged away as another burst of magic filled the forest, accompanied by bullets. He recognized the roar of the gun now. It was Cerberus, a three-barreled rifle that was too powerful for a normal human to wield one-handed.

Vincent's nearly monstrous strength and speed pulled them out of the battle before anyone could truly react, disappearing in another blur of carmine. The three brothers were left alone with their captives, despite how much Sephiroth wanted to return and finish what they'd started. The former General lost consciousness soon after, Jenova screaming obscenities in his brain, enraged that her chance had come and gone.

Left behind, Kadaj spat a curse and spun Souba back into its sheath. He watched the strange cerise apparition disappear into the night, against the backdrop of the full silver moon, and ground his teeth. There was no point in chasing after them. It didn't matter, really, the true battle was yet to come.

Besides, he still had the children. With them, he would be able to invoke the Reunion and that was all that mattered. Jenova raged within him, her rage sending shocks of pain through his body. Kadaj was left with no choice but to endure.

Not much longer, now, and it would all be over. He ignored the stab of sorrow and regret that entered his heart, even as he rejoined his brothers to finalize their plans.

He had no time for either.

* * *

a/n: I'm particularly fond of this chapter so I hope you liked it, too! Comments are always welcome and appreciated. I haven't forgotten this story yet!


	14. Interlude 4: Stunted Motion

Warning: oral sex, malexmale lovin', references to past rape

Use caution when reading. It's a bit of a limeish-lemon. I do hope you enjoy!

**Shattered Children: Interlude Four**

**Stunted Motion**

**Tseng/Sephiroth**

Sephiroth moaned, the sound slipping through his lips before he could stop it, head falling back against the pillow behind him. His body was covered in a faint sheen of sweat as he succumbed to the sweet mouth wrapped around his arousal, working him so effortlessly to a climax.

He might not have had years of experience, but that didn't mean much. He was absolutely certain that no one could have been more talented than Tseng, that tongue and those lips applying the perfect pressure as they passed over the length of his erection. The tip of Tseng's tongue flicked out against him and his hips bucked automatically, body shuddering in need.

Tseng rode out the motion in a well-practiced move, one hand sliding up to settle on Sephiroth's bare hip and hold him down. The former General tried to hold back, but the pleasure was too great and he thrust upwards, seeking more of the wet warmth. He had never known that it could feel like this, having assumed that the rumors he'd heard on the subject were merely rumors and he was missing out on nothing. He had been so wrong.

A gasp slipped from his lips, one of his hands clutched onto the covers as a fire begin to curl in his belly, twisting and turning. The other clenched onto nothing before falling to Tseng's hold on his hip, fingers digging into the Turk's hand. That tongue worked him mercilessly, and there was a faint scrape of teeth against the sensitive skin. Tseng sucked at the head of his length before going deeper, taking Sephiroth into his throat.

The former general was in absolute bliss, body shuddering as it neared its climax and bathed in sweat. A part of him wanted to hold on to this ecstasy forever, never surrendering to his release, even if he knew it was impossible. Sephiroth dragged his lip between his teeth, trying to stop the almost embarrassing sounds that were pouring from his mouth.

He could feel his pulse pounding through his body, making him break out into a warm sweat of need and want. His hips kept jerking, despite Tseng's hold on them, and all he wanted to do was spill into that warm mouth. That tongue worked him without ending, swiping and doing wonderful things that kept him on the edge of bliss, and Sephiroth groaned, the taste of copper dancing on his tongue as he bit his lip.

It was no use. He couldn't hold back even if he wanted to. He felt the coiling and the twisting in his gut first, the throbbing of his arousal against Tseng's tongue. The head of his shaft bobbed against the back of the Turk's throat and Tseng swallowed, his throat massaging Sephiroth's length. It was simply more than he could take.

Fingers digging into the covers with enough strength to rip the cotton material, Sephiroth shoved his head back against the pillow and bucked, releasing into his lover's mouth. Ecstasy rattled through him, ignoring his attempts to clamp down on his cries and releasing a pleased groan into the room. And, through it all, Tseng's mouth never stopped its torture, swallowing him easily. A part of Sephiroth was inexplicably jealous, though it was dulled by the pleasure still racking his body.

He panted, body thrumming happily as Tseng let the softening organ slip from his mouth and moved upwards. Sephiroth didn't even protest as Tseng kissed him, his own fingers moving to tangle in long, dark hair. The kiss was sloppy and messy, more hungry and open-mouthed than gentle and loving. He could taste himself on Tseng's tongue and it was a weird flavor, but he endured it because it didn't matter.

Their bodies came together, warmth blanketing warmth. Sephiroth could feel Tseng's arousal pressing against one of his legs, demanding and rigid, even as he wrapped his other arm around Tseng's back, holding the Turk against him. Tseng growled in his throat, grinding his hips sinuously against Sephiroth's leg. The sound was absolutely sexy, threatening to awaken Sephiroth's libido once more.

One of Tseng's hands pressed against the bed for balance as the other gripped Sephiroth's shoulder, their tongues tangling together until Tseng broke the kiss. He dropped his mouth to Sephiroth's throat, nipping and licking, always fascinated by the red marks he caused that healed all too quickly. The mattress gave a tiny squeak of discomfort but it was promptly ignored, heat filling the room.

Sephiroth had learned of reciprocation in their gradually growing relationship and, without further adieu, he freed one of his arms,sliding it between their bodies. His fingers found Tseng's arousal and massaged the taut flesh through the layer of cloth separating them. Tseng moaned, his breath hot and heavy against Sephiroth's throat and he bucked into the touch.

With a great surge, Sephiroth managed to roll them over, Tseng helping him somewhat. His hand moved from touching to unbuttoning Tseng's pants, even as his mouth sought out the Turks once more. He had quickly grown to enjoy kissing, their mouths openly pressing together and lips crashing with a hint of impatience. Tseng's hips bucked against his hand as he dragged down the zipper, his fingers diving beneath the fabric to cup the hardened length.

A sigh came from Tseng's lips and his breath hitched as he wrapped his fingers around Sephiroth's arm, squeezing faintly in encouragement.

Sephiroth gathered his courage and began to work his way down Tseng's body, momentarily mouthing a nipple through dark cloth before continuing in his path. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he was determined to give it a try. It seemed only fair after all, and the sounds emanating from Tseng's throat continued to encourage him.

His trailed his fingers down Tseng's length, thumbing a pearly drop that had gathered at the tip. Sephiroth positioned himself between the Turk's legs and stared at the organ in front of him, angry red with need. He stroked Tseng with his fingers, his own arousal tightening as the Turk moaned, legs spreading to accommodate him.

He could do this.

Sephiroth lowered his head and closed his mouth over the tip of Tseng's arousal, gently curling his tongue around the head. The resulting hitch of breath from his lover was worth the moment's discomfort. He lightly stroked the base of Tseng's shaft, and tried to go further, attempting to take more of the organ into his mouth.

Completely unbidden, memories chose that moment to crop up around him. He remembered another moment, another time, far back in the past. The feel of flesh, hard and hot, sliding into his mouth. He remembered choking on the bitter taste as it slid down his throat, like boiling liquid, harsh and burning. He remembered trying to breathe but unable to, being forced to take the thick organ.

There was a penis hitting the back of his throat, bruising his mouth and his flesh. He knew he was choking on it, but it wouldn't fall back. His lips were cut and bleeding, thin fingers digging into his skull. They pushed his head forward, forcing him to take more of the disgusting thing deeper. He could remember the scent of the assailant, and the sound of heavy breathing, raspy with a hint of disdain.

Nausea rolled through Sephiroth, along with the bitter feeling of absolutely loathing. Even though he knew that logically the circumstances were nowhere near the same, he couldn't stop the bile from wanting to rise. He suddenly wanted a bath in boiling hot water, perhaps even dousing himself in the burn of mako. Anything to get rid of the sudden tainted feeling that coursed through him.

"Sephiroth?"

Tseng's voice snapped him from his daze and he realized that some long moment had passed since he had taken his lover into his mouth. The Turk's organ had long since slipped from his lips and he had been staring into nothing. Sephiroth blinked slowly, the memories echoing in the back of his mind.

Silver eyes turned towards him, filling with concern. He reached for Sephiroth, the worry chasing away all thoughts of arousal. Angry at himself, the former general pulled back out of Tseng's reach as the nightmares continued to play across the back of mind, like scattered, stilted scenes of horror. Sephiroth slipped off the bed, trying to ignore the look in his lover's eyes.

He turned his back on Tseng, reaching for his loosened pants and hastily tucking himself away. Any arousal he might have held had died in the face of his nightmarish memories.

"I have to go," Sephiroth said rather lamely, already stumbling towards the door to Tseng's bedroom.

He couldn't help but wonder what had caused his normally rational and composed mindset to fly out the window. He could remember feeling some uncertainty, at times, but he'd never dealt with it like this, by running away like a frightened coward.

The mattress squeaked in protest, comforters rustling. "Sephiroth, wait!" Tseng fumbled to rise and chase after him. The sound of him dragging up his pants and nearly tripping on their length, displaying none of his usual grace, filled the tense silence.

Sephiroth pretended as if he couldn't hear, didn't even notice. "I have to go," he repeated, unable to come up with something better.

His heart was racing as he yanked open the door and stepped out into the hallway. He was at the main entrance in a flash, sliding sock covered feet into his boots and grabbing his jacket with one hand. He heard the keys rattle inside one of the pockets, and relief spread through him knowing he wouldn't have to spend precious time searching for them.

Tseng moved more quickly than he would have expected, however, and caught him before he could even open the front door. His fingers curled around Sephiroth's upper arm, dragging him to a halt, and Sephiroth could only hope that the telepath couldn't see what was flashing inside his brain. He prayed that Tseng's concern would override his instinctual curiosity. The images floating around in his brain were something he never wanted anyone else to see.

The feeling of needing to vomit rose up again and Sephiroth swore he could taste the bile in the back of his throat. He heard distant grunts of ecstasy, felt the phantom bruising fingers on his skin leavings marks that the mako would soon burn away.

"Talk to me," Tseng said, and he made it sound so simple.

Though he had no real desire to, Sephiroth turned to look at his lover, and all he could see was _that man_. Logically, he knew that Tseng was standing there and not Hojo. Rationally, he knew that Tseng's eyes were brighter, his hair cleaner, his concern more genuine, his touch gentler. The small part of him that remained sane knew that they weren't the same, but with the madness banking behind him, and the nightmares crashing across his eyes... he was staring into the past.

Sephiroth shook his head, closing his eyes against the images. "I have to go," was was the only consolation he could give the Turk as he pulled his arm free. In the same motion, he practically ripped the door of its hinges and disappeared beyond it, slamming it shut behind him with a sense of finality.

He didn't feel safe until he was far down the hallway and in the elevator, going down the ten or so floors that would take him to the garage below the building. His entire body was shaking, the sickness and disgust making him pale and weak. A cold sweat had broken out over his body, forcing Sephiroth to wonder faintly if he was finally going to lose it.

He hadn't even managed more than a few seconds of providing pleasure to his lover, leaving him in the lurch, and yet, Sephiroth could still taste the bitter seed burning the back of his throat. He scraped a hand over his face, wishing he could just wash out the images, but the several deep, steadying breaths he had time for did nothing to bring him control.

In his pocket, he felt his phone buzz. It was, more likely than not, Tseng trying to talk to him, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, but Sephiroth ignored it. He knew he couldn't bring himself to explain anything at the moment, not with the reminder so fresh. He vaguely wondered if that noise in the back of his mind was Jenova cackling at him.

The elevator dinged, dropping to a halt and making his stomach lurch violently. The door slid open, releasing him into the parking garage. Sephiroth wasted no time in climbing onto his bike, telling himself that he wasn't running away. Not really. He just needed time to figure this out on his own, time to find some sense in the craziness and to determine just what the hell Hojo had done to him.

His bike came to life with a roar that echoed in the half-full garage and Sephiroth revved the engine, speeding out of the building. He knew his mind probably had some final destination in mind, but he didn't know for sure, nor did he particularly care. He had handled the whole situation poorly, that much was obvious, and he mentally sent an apology to Tseng for having been such an insensitive prick.

Perhaps men like him really weren't meant for relationships after all.

Back in the apartment, Tseng ended the call before his phone had even finished ringing. Sephiroth would have already answered if it had intended to do so. His fingers tightened around the cell, the plastic groaning under the pressure, before he tossed it onto the hall table. They were expensive to replace.

He was confused, unsure what to call the emotions rolling inside of him, though he knew some of them were remnants of Sephiroth's pain. But, from that single, unasked for glimpse into the man's mind, Tseng was certain anger was also part of it.

He had the urge to punch the wall, kick the door, do something violent because there was no real outlet for his anger. The one who had caused it was already dead, destroyed by one Cid Highwind, and yet, he hadn't even begun to pay for his misdeeds. There was no hell deep enough for Euphraim Hojo.

Knowing that Sephiroth was remembering more and more each day made him sick, and he also knew that there was no way Sephiroth ever planned on telling him. He doubted even Zack knew.

A part of Tseng wished he had never discovered the sordid truth. But, he had, and now he had to deal with the consequences of knowing. If he had been any less of a man, he would have proclaimed Sephiroth beyond his capacity to handle and simply turned away; if his feelings had been any less sincere, he would have abandoned the man long before. But, Tseng was already in too deep, and he knew there was no way out of the hole his emotions had landed him in.

With a defeated sigh, Tseng reached out and flicked off the light in the hall. He wandered through the house, turning off the rest of the lights and such, preparing to go to sleep. There really was no reason to stay up by himself.

He went to bed, but with his thoughts so jumbled and confused, it did him little good. He stayed up most of the night brooding, and it was only in the early hours of the morning that he finally managed to fall asleep, only to wake up not long after in order to head into the office. He felt ragged and tired, weariness pulling at his bones like a physical weight.

Tseng dressed in a sleepy daze, grabbing the necessities and locking up his apartment. He was at the office in a matter of minutes, easy enough when one lived in the same building as his workplace. Heading directly for the employee room and the aged coffee pot, he heard the sweet sound of the machine gurgling out the morning's first pot. Zack must have been by already; he made the best coffee.

He poured himself a full cup and sipped at the steaming liquid, choking it down black to wake himself up with the bitter taste. He usually preferred sugar and cream until it was the color of pale mocha, but some situations called for something stronger.

He blew on the coffee to cool it down and absentmindedly wandered back towards his temporary office, mind still churning with the nightmares he had siphoned from Sephiroth unintentionally. As he rounded to the corner, he was surprised to find that someone was already waiting outside the door for him.

Tseng blinked. "Sephiroth?"

After much effort, those gray-green eyes lifted to his. "Are you busy?"

The Turk shook his head. "I wouldn't be able to tell you," he responded, still trying to overcome his shock, "having not had the chance to see my desk yet this morning."

The smile that broke onto Sephiroth's lips looked strained as he moved aside. Tseng pulled out his key with one hand, sliding it into the lock and opening the door.

"You can come in though," Tseng added, pushing his way inside and leaving the door open in invitation.

"Thank you."

Tseng stepped into his office and moved across the floor to his desk. He circled around it, setting the coffee on its heating mat and powered up his computer with a press of his finger. His office was anally organized as usual, yet he couldn't resist glaring daggers at the pile of paperwork stacked in his IN box. It didn't make any sense how much he had when the only person he reported to was Reeve. Then again, their investors liked to see a paper trail.

A light chuckle pierced his thoughts and he looked up to find that Sephiroth was watching him. "That is the same look I used to give my own paperwork," he explained.

Tseng arched one brow, the tension between them slowly lightening its grip as they worked through it. "The Great General had paperwork?"

"More than I was willing to sign," Sephiroth responded, fidgeting slightly in an uncharacteristic motion. He remained in the office, however, looking determined.

The Turk Commander sipped his coffee, holding back his blanch at the taste. He sat down at his desk, watching Sephiroth over the rim. His lover looked pale still, and definitely awkward, but also resolute. A small part of Tseng couldn't help but begin to fear that Sephiroth had come to end it. He had shown up rather quickly after leaving so suddenly and, usually, he needed more than half a night to get over something.

He knew that their relationship wasn't perfect and that really, they weren't moving forward at all. But he had wanted this for so long, and he'd never been one to give up on something that really mattered. It was part of the Turk motto, after all. He couldn't just abandon Sephiroth either, not after what he'd seen. Pity was the last thing Sephiroth would want from him, but he was also certain that pity had nothing to do with it.

Despite all the troubles, Tseng didn't want it to be over. He had so much left to learn.

His mug hit the desk top and Tseng opened his mouth, fully intending to make his plea in a manner that didn't sound like he was begging. "Sephiroth--"

"All I've ever known is the military," the General interrupted him before he could even begin that sentence, his eyes shifting to the side. "The military and... that man."

Silver eyes raised to the former General, _that man_ easily identified without him having to ask. He remained silent, patiently waiting for his lover to continue. He knew that Sephiroth did not need to be prompted, that he was just trying to find the right words.

He watched as Sephiroth swallowed thickly, but his hands remained unclenched at his sides. It was a testament to his composure that Sephiroth wasn't fidgeting. A part of Tseng recognized that he was drawing on the General's learned composure right now, if only to keep from wanting to run away. There were small threads of fear and disgust still in his emotions, but there was also a hefty amount of purpose there as well.

"I've always known that they were doing experiments on me, but I had assumed it was nothing unusual to SOLDIER," Sephiroth continued, his tone purposefully blank. "I had no idea that Jenova was not my mother, but an alien creature from beyond the stars. However, I was aware that Hojo was my father. He took great pride in constantly telling me so."

Tseng inclined his head, fingers curling around the warmth of his coffee. "They were lying to you," he said softly. "Nothing unusual for ShinRa."

"The truth would have meant their deaths," Sephiroth answered. "They never expected me to be human, never tried to show me how. Until I met Zack, I didn't know what it meant to live. I'd only... existed."

His words dropped into the room and Tseng absorbed them, feeling something inside him clench at just the thought. Sephiroth, who was never meant to be anything more than a machine... no wonder he couldn't understand his own feelings, or anything else.

"Why are you telling me this?" Tseng asked, after the moment of contemplative silence. "If this is an apology or a way to make up for--"

"That's not it," Sephiroth insisted a bit forcefully, face flushing. "I'm telling you so you can _understand._"

The Turk blinked. He already understood that much about his lover, why would Sephiroth need to reiterate it? He sat back into his chair, fingers touching the mug but not drinking it.

Sephiroth sighed and raked a hand through his hair, another nervous gesture that he had somehow acquired recently. "I don't remember much," he began again. "I don't know if it's because I've died, or if it's Jenova or the Planet or what... but I can't remember a good bit of my life. Zack told me that when he woke on that island, he couldn't either. But his memories are coming back a lot faster than mine, and... I think it's because I'm subconsciously blocking what I don't want to remember."

Confusion rippled through Tseng but he nodded slowly. "That makes sense, all things considered."

Shifting position a bit awkwardly, Sephiroth continued, "But when I do remember, it's usually triggered by something and it can be... startling." Which was putting it rather mildly, but Sephiroth felt no need to add that particular comment. "I apologize for leaving without explanation last night."

Tseng felt his breath expel slowly, relief spreading through him. Sephiroth was not trying to end it. And even though he had been upset last night, he no longer felt the same today. His anger had bled out to become a slow burning. With nothing to direct it towards, it could only fizzle out in its uselessness. In the end, he had only been able to promise himself that he would never demand anything of Sephiroth that the man couldn't give.

"Apology accepted." Tseng said, and then abruptly shifted gears. "Are you busy tonight?"

The former General blinked. "You're not going to ask?"

"Would you tell me if I did?"

"..."

He had suspected as much.

Tseng took a sip of his coffee and rose to his feet, leaving the bitter liquid on his desk. "It's only been a couple of months. If you're not ready to tell me yet, I understand."

It wasn't that he didn't want to know, or that he thought Sephiroth shouldn't tell someone about what had happened to him. But, Tseng understood that trying to press Sephiroth for anything was only going to drive his away. Perhaps later, after they'd become more certain of their relationship, he could convince the man to talk to him. But, for the present, just being with him and for him was enough.

Relief spread through Sephiroth's emotions, though it didn't show on his face,

wiping away the uncertainty. "I haven't spoken with Reeve, yet," he answered. "I do need to stop by Kalm but that can wait another day."

A smile flitted onto Tseng's face. "Good."

It wasn't much, but it felt like something, at least. They were moving forward, and that was really all that mattered.

* * *

a/n: Poor Sephiroth. I just love torturing him.

Sorry guys for the length of time between updates. I assure you, I haven't forgotten this story and it will be finished, though I can't be certain when. I am putting effort in it, however.

Hope you guys enjoyed! I look forward to your comments!


	15. Chapter 9: The Twilight Hour

a/n: Sorry for the long wait in updates. Got a bit distracted by a fiction challenge, but I'm here now. Don't worry, I'll never forget about this fic! I promise. Thanks to everyone who's still sticking with me and enjoying this!

**Shattered Children: Chapter Nine**

**The Twilight Hour**

When the phone on his desk began to ring, Reeve wasn't entirely sure it was unexpected. His eyes flickered to Reno and Archer, both in the room with him, before he reached for the device. He lifted it from the cradle with a click and held it to his ear.

"Tuesti here," he answered crisply, half-expecting a familiar voice to pour through the speaker. He was not disappointed.

"Mr. President," Kadaj drawled in his usual tone, half-mocking and nowhere near sincere. "How kind of you to answer the phone."

Reeve's fingers tightened around the curve of the phone, even as Archer looked up in interest, recognizing the voice. "No games, Kadaj. Just tell me what you want so I can tell you to fuck off." He hadn't realized how angry he was until he actually spoke to the boy. Now it was pouring through his voice before he could stop it.

"Tsk, tsk," Kadaj chided with a faint laugh. "So vulgar? Now is that any way to treat a business partner. After all, we're trading here, aren't we?"

The President felt his anger building and he forced himself to swallow it down. "I do not negotiate with terrorists," he reiterated. "What have you done with the children?"

"I need them," the boy answered flippantly. "This is just a courtesy call anyways, Mr. President. I want you to have Mother ready. I'm coming for her."

"I will not hand it over to you." Reeve responded, feeling himself rising to his feet as his free hand slammed down onto the desk. "You--"

But before he could finish his statement, the phone was ripped from his hands. Reeve had only seconds to blink as Archer turned away from him, taking the phone into his possession. There was a moment of apology in his purple eyes before he turned his attention to the receiver.

"Kadaj?" he nearly yelled into the phone.

There was silence and Reeve sighed, rubbing his forehead. He supposed he couldn't begrudge his associate the use of the phone. It wasn't as if he were going to be able to reason with Kadaj anyways. He knew what the boy wanted, all that was left was for him to make plans. Kadaj had made no mention of Sephiroth attacking, so perhaps they hadn't arrived yet. Though, logic clearly pointed otherwise. Reeve didn't want to think that the former general had been defeated. It seemed impossible.

"Kadaj!"

"Don't yell, Archer," came the quiet response, much more reserved than Reeve would have expected and barely audible for him to hear.

Reeve turned surprised eyes towards the phone, momentarily exchanging glances with his husband. Reno seemed equally shocked, the both of them having suspected that the three look-alikes had already completely succumbed to Jenova's will. That Kadaj was capable of lucidity was startling.

Archer's shoulders sagged. "What do you think you are doing?" he demanded in a ragged voice, etched with hurt. "And, for that matter, why?"

"I told you, didn't I?" Kadaj returned, his own tone speaking of regret. "Forget about me. For your own sake."

A part of Reeve was glad that he couldn't see his associate's expression since he was certain the sight of it would have been painful. Archer was clinging to the phone with both hands, hunched over as if expecting some sort of physical attack. He had been silent and non-communicative since Kadaj had first shown up, blaming himself for what had happened. Even Reeve could see that he was in love with the boy, though he was damned if he knew why.

"You know I can't do that," Archer countered, struggling to maintain composure. "Give me an explanation, or something. Why would you even listen to her?"

Silence spread through the receiver and it was obvious Kadaj couldn't answer that question in a way that Archer would be able to understand.

"Kadaj?"

Something crackled on the other end of the line. "Forget me, Kyle, and don't even try to stop me. I can't guarantee I won't kill you." When Archer sucked in a breath, Kadaj's parting words came through. "I'm sorry."

There was a click and then the phone beeped lowly as the dial tone came through, sounding loud and painfully final. Archer held onto the phone for several long seconds before he turned slowly, returning it to the cradle. His eyes were shifted to the ground, carefully hooded to conceal his pain.

Reeve wished that he had the words to say, knowing that "I told you so" was completely inappropriate, no matter how much he knew he was right.

"Archer?"

The engineer simply shook his head and whirled around, heading for the door. "I'm going to see if they've gotten any of the helicopters working, we need to make sure we get Reis and Revan out of here," he threw over his shoulder.

Reeve didn't even think to argue or stop him. He watched as his husband followed Archer's exit with his eyes, showing his own restraint. The both of them flinched as the door clicked closed behind Archer, and Reeve sighed, pressing a palm to his face. Why couldn't anything ever be simple?

"What did Kadaj have to say?" Reno asked as he crossed the floor, moving around the desk to stand beside his husband. His hands fell to Reeve's shoulders, fingers digging into stiff muscles.

The President rolled his eyes. "The usual. Give me the piece of alien that is supposed to be my mother."

Reno snorted. "I don't think he put it quite like that, yo."

"No, he didn't." Reeve responded, feeling a headache coming on. "He wouldn't say what he had the children for either, and no mention of Sephiroth."

"Hmm." Reno made a non-committal sound in his throat, leaning over to press a kiss to the back of Reeve's neck. "Guess it's time to get ready for battle."

The President groaned. "Don't remind me."

When was it all going to be through? Reeve couldn't help but wonder. From the first battles against Sephiroth, to the war against the gods, and now against ShinRa-spawned SOLDIER again. Would they ever find peace?

***

On the other end of the phone, and half a world away, Kadaj clicked END with a measure of regret striking at his heart. Hearing Archer's voice had been bittersweet, reminding him of what Jenova was forcing him to leave behind. He had known better than to form attachments and yet, he had gravitated to the engineer anyways. There was something he couldn't ignore in those amethyst eyes, but all he had done was bring the man pain.

Sighing, Kadaj slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned to face his brothers, even though only Yazoo met his gaze. Loz was playing with the kids, some kind of game that Kadaj didn't really understand. The eldest had always been more of a child at heart.

"What next, nii-chan?" Yazoo asked, something unnameable in his gaze.

"Now," Kadaj answered, sweeping his eyes over their gathered, new followers. "Now we begin our reunion. If that doesn't bring Mother to us, nothing will."

Yazoo inclined his head and elegantly turned, sweeping his hair over his shoulders. "And it will bring our brother, too?" he questioned, the barest hint of doubt tainting his query, almost as if he were fighting the same internal struggle.

"She certainly thinks it will," Kadaj responded, distraction in his tone.

Jenova was quiet for the moment, her presence only a faint prickle in the back of his mind. And he relished the tiny, momentary freedom. He curled his fingers around it and cradled it as though it were some precious item. They were coming fewer and further apart, and he knew the day would come when they would disappear altogether.

Yazoo made a noncommittal sound in his throat, and glanced over his shoulder at his younger brother. "When she finds him, what will become of us?"

"I don't know." Kadaj frowned, folding his arms over his chest.

He could feel her wants trickling through them, trying to resonate with his own. She wanted her son, her child. The three of them, the brothers, were mere appetizers to her hunger for Sephiroth. She wanted his power, his speed, and his grace. She couldn't wait to sink her teeth back into his fractured mind.

Nowhere could he see a purpose for them, except to bring her to him.

His brother snorted, and the sneer that decorated his lips was a mockery to his normally beautiful features. "What else?" Yazoo posed rhetorically, answering his own questions. "Worthless beings who have served their purpose are disposed of." His gaze had fallen forward again, locking onto some nondescript piece of dirt.

It was a testament to his own roiling feelings that Kadaj couldn't refute Yazoo's statement. Even if he wanted to escape, to find his freedom, he knew that death would come first. Jenova would rather see him as a rotting corpse than allow him free reign over anything, even his own life; he was lucky to have enjoyed even those peaceful and happy months with Archer. He knew far better than to hope for it again.

The weight of his pathetic situation pressed on him like a physical presence, and it made him sick. He knew he was being used, that death was all that awaited him, that he was going to be thrown aside, just like trash, once brother was finally back at Mother's side. And yet, he helped her anyway, even if it was partially forced. Some silly part of him wanted to live, rather than die so she couldn't complete her plans, but he wouldn't be able to run from his fate.

Selfish, he was. And Kadaj knew it. He'd had a taste of life and now he couldn't let go of it, not even to free himself.

Nor could he hate brother for being that much better, that much more perfect. He was the original after all. No one could compare to Sephiroth, to archetypal perfection. Hojo had tried to repeat his experiments, and had three failures at hand. Only Kadaj had come the closest, and he still wasn't good enough. Just barely useful enough to manipulate, but not good enough to find a home in that so-called promised land.

He wondered if this rising feeling inside of him, a surge of helplessness and rage and sorrow intertwined, was just a small cry for help. If the reason he stood by and did everything Mother said was because he was expecting someone to save him the same way they had helped—were still helping—Sephiroth. He couldn't help but see Archer in the back of his mind, couldn't help but recall the pained sound of his lover's voice.

By Kami, he wanted to see Archer again before he died so much that it ached. But Kadaj had never believed in the gods, not even when they spoke to him, and he wasn't about to start now. No higher being was going to save him.

If they hadn't helped him even when he was in the laboratory and under his own father's thumb, they wouldn't help him now. What about when he had suffered experiment after experiment, was forced to listen to the screams of his own brothers from the moment he was born? If they existed, why hadn't they been there for him then? No, Kadaj had long ago stopped praying to the gods.

"--aj. _Kadaj_."

He blinked, not even realizing he had been so deep in his thoughts. Yazoo was standing in front of him, a concerned look on his face. "You awake in there?" he asked, and part of it was a worry for himself. Kadaj understood that all too well.

He nodded jerkily and turned away from his brother, feeling an uncomfortable tremble beginning to wrack his body. "It's time to go," he stated, waving away all further attempts at conversation.

Mother was getting anxious, he could feel it and hear her urgings. She was tired of standing around and waiting. She wanted results, and who was he to deny her?

Yazoo's eyes burned into the back of his skull and he felt, more than saw, that he must have nodded in agreement. "Understood." It was followed by the barely present sound of his boots crunching over the somewhat frozen ground.

Rubbing fingers over a suddenly aching forehead, Kadaj dropped his hand to his sword, taking comfort from the well-worn hilt. Though he had hated it during the endless hours of combat training, Souba was like a friend to him now. One of the few items he knew he could rely on, that would never let him down or expect anything more than what he could give.

_**Soon**_**. **Jenova crooned in the back of his mind, flexing her fingers in his brain like the claws of a playing feline. _**Soon, it will all be over. It will all be ours**_.

Kadaj had long ago learned the waste of effort it was to refute her. 'Yes, mother,' he responded, and he took every effort to remove the disdain from his words.

The sound of jingling metal and heavy jogging floated to his ears and Kadaj paused, giving time for Loz to catch up to him. He glanced over his shoulder, his eldest brother approaching and trying to wave him down.

"Nii-chan," he began, a bit breathlessly, as he drew to a halt beside Kadaj. "That brat got away. She must have disappeared in the confusion."

It took him a moment to recognize just whom Loz spoke of. Likely that girl who had been clinging to the dark-headed Turk and who had come with Denzel, Sephiroth's brat. Her presence hadn't been important in the long run. Without the taint of Geostigma, she was useless for the Reunion anyway, and Denzel had already joined their cause.

Kadaj waved a hand of dismissal. "It's fine," he responded. "We have the others, and she already served her purpose."

Oh, the irony.

"Yeah, but..." Loz trailed off as he scratched his chin with one black-gloved hand. "It's dangerous out there..."

A short growl of frustration – Mother's influence more than his own – left Kadaj's mouth before he could stop it. "That's not our problem," he stated shortly, hating the sharp edge to his tone. Loz certainly didn't deserve it.

The elder blinked at him for several long moments, and Kadaj idly thought his brother might actually rebel against him this time. The though was gone as quickly as it came, as Loz simply inclined his head, submitting to Mother's whims just as he and Yazoo did every time.

"Yeah, got it." Dropping his hand, Loz turned away from Kadaj. "I'll help Yazoo get the rest of them ready." Then, he was gone, in a flash of naturally enhanced speed.

Kadaj watched him go, his insides a twisted knot of confusion and inner voices. It didn't matter, he told himself. There was no turning back now. He had plans to execute, and Mother didn't approve of delays. Swallowing down the human feelings that threatened to rise, he turned to finish preparing for the journey to Junon.

***

The sound of water trickling was the first thing to infiltrate Sephiroth's consciousness as he stirred. He peeled his eyes open as he registered the low sounds of a familiar voice cursing in the background. Tseng's, he recognized.

The pale glow of frozen trees filtered to his eyes, dimly lighting the area around him. He was lying on the ground, he realized, his own jacket pillowed beneath his head. Biting back a deep groan, he slowly rose to a sitting position, one hand moving to his aching skull. His entire body felt sore, as though he had gone ten rounds against himself and lost pathetically.

"You're awake, I see." Valentine's voice.

He turned his head, following the sound, and noticed Vincent and Tseng propped on the ground a few feet away from him. They were close to each other, and Sephiroth caught sight of Valentine diligently tending to Tseng's wound. That much, at least, explained the muttered expletives and the visible wincing.

The groan he was trying to halt escaped anyways, his head pulsing and pounding. He swept his gaze across the tiny clearing, the brightness of the trees nearly blinding, but a quick survey was all he needed to determine that there were no children present. He surged to his feet before he knew entirely what he was doing.

"Marlene? Denzel? Where are they?" he demanded, automatically hunting for his blade despite the protest of both his skull and his body.

Stabs of pain were rocketing through him, including the dull ache he had learned to associate with the Geostigma. It was enough to make him vaguely nauseated and he was instantly glad he hadn't eaten anything recently.

The former Turk didn't pause in his work, the soft green glow of a Heal, or possibly a Cure, centered on his fingers. "I imagine they are still with the brothers. I was unable to rescue both them and you two at the same time."

A feeling of helplessness surged through Sephiroth, on the wake of the weakness in his knees and the lingering dizziness. "Then you should have saved them," he stated through gritted teeth, heart pounding at the thought of the two children still in the hands of those madmen.

At the thought of Jenova, his eyes narrowed. Who knew what the bitch was planning, what she would _do _to them if only to make Sephiroth angry or hurt him. The very thought sent a stronger surge of anger through him and he could have sworn he heard her mocking laughter, taunting him for his weakness.

His hands curled into furious fists.

"They weren't going to kill them," Vincent countered in that same calm tone, the glow of the healing disappearing from his fingers as he sat back and reached for bandages. "But they were going to kill you."

Sephiroth shook his head, ignoring the ache in his skull, and took a cautious step. The need to have his sword in his hand was growing stronger. "They wouldn't have," he murmured distractedly. "They want something from me."

The Turk was absolutely still as Vincent wrapped the bindings around him, keeping the recently healed bones straight and in proper place. No matter how strong the materia, a good portion of the body's natural strength was required for a good healing. Snapping the last piece into place and securing it with a pin, Vincent moved back to give Tseng space and shifted his gaze to Sephiroth.

"They want you because Jenova wants you," he informed the former General, very nearly sounding parental in that moment. "And for you, that is a fate akin to death."

Sephiroth worked his jaw, understanding Vincent but not wanting to concede to rationality. "What kind of man would I be if I let them take those kids?" he demanded coldly. "We have to go after them. Right now."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" the older man demanded, rising to his feet and letting his cloak settle about him concealingly. "I very much doubt they are still in this forest and we have no clue as to their intentions."

Silver eyes watched the two men with interest as Tseng pulled his clothes back on, removed so that Vincent could heal him. He had nothing to add to the conversation, however, and simply listened. Two stubborn wills clashed.

A noise suddenly disturbed the tense atmosphere. To their left, the bushes rustled noisily. In a flash, the three men were prepared for battle, every muscle tensed. They turned as one coherent unit, Vincent's slightly less powerful but still deadly Outsider aimed on the foliage. Tseng dropped a hand to the Yoshiyuki, fingers curling around the hilt in preparation to draw, and he could tell by the look on the weaponless Sephiroth's expression that he was calling a spell to the forefront of his mind.

They watched in tense anticipation. The bushes rustled once more, and then a form emerged, practically exploding from the green foliage. To every man's shock and amazement, their attacker was not one of the brothers, but Marlene. Tears glimmered in her brown eyes as she threw herself at Tseng, nearly knocking the Turk over.

"Mr. Tseng!" she sobbed, her fingers grasping at his shirt and pulling her body closer to the protection of his arms. "Denzel! They took Denzel!" she cried, dampening the fabric of his clothing with her tears.

Her little body shook with both fear and sadness, which Tseng could feel swirling about her madly. It was enough to make his own heart ache and he took several steadying breaths to build his walls back up enough to dull the emotions. Children's feelings were always so much stronger and purer. They hurt that much more.

He removed his hand from Yoshiyuki and gently laid it on Marlene's head, curling his other arm around her small frame. He soothingly stroked her hair, trying to calm the little girl down. Silver eyes exchanged glances with the other adults. Sephiroth was in the midst of dismissing his spell, and Vincent lowered his weapon, returning it to his holster with an artful twist of his fingers. Their battle-wary stances were already fading.

Satisfied, Tseng focused his attention on the sobbing girl. He gently lowered himself to one knee so that he was eye level with Marlene. "How did you escape?" he asked kindly, gaze frantically checking for any injuries on her person. One hand continued to stroke her hair in a soothing fashion.

She didn't seem to be injured, which struck him as odd, given the circumstances. The small sense of murder that had been building gradually dampened. Had anyone hurt her, Tseng didn't think he could be merciful.

Sniffling, Marlene wiped at her eyes. "They weren't paying attention to me, so I ran," she explained in a tired voice, "but I had to leave Denzel. He wouldn't listen to me!" The thought of leaving her friend clearly distressed the little girl and she choked on her words, dissolving into tears once more.

"I know," Tseng murmured sympathetically, feeling a surge of hatred towards the three brothers who would cause her such distress. "Do you know where they are going?"

Marlene nodded. "Junon," she answered, coughing a little into her hand. "They said something about a 'union' and 'calling their mother'." She chewed on her lip, worry furrowing her brow.

With gentle fingers, Tseng wiped away the last of her tears and looked up at Vincent and Sephiroth. Both had been listening with acute interest and were now frowning, especially the former who appeared to have some understanding.

"Reunion," Vincent repeated, a shiver of unease creeping down his spine. He had the sudden urge to feel the comfort of Outisider in his palm. "I should have known. They are going to use the Geostigma in the children to find Jenova."

Tseng's thoughtful frown deepened. "Will they succeed?"

The former Turk shook his head. "I cannot say. Even for Hojo, it was only a theory that he was never able to prove." A disconcerted flicker of emotion raced across Vincent's face. "But, judging from personal experience, the pieces of Jenova do seem to have an _affinity_ – for lack of a better word – for one another."

It was all the proof that Sephiroth needed in deciding what had to be done. The judgment was made in his mind even before he had any real plan in mind. He ignored his own pain, tired of standing idly by. He had a location now, and that was all he wanted.

"Tseng," he began, calling the Turk's attention, mind already in the midst of trying to remember exactly where he had lost Odin and how to get the bike back. "Take Marlene to Rocket Town. She should be safe there."

Rising to his full height, Tseng frowned. "Why?" he demanded, silver eyes narrowing. Marlene clutched tighter to him, face still scrunched with worry.

"I'm going after Denzel." It seemed so simple. Sephiroth couldn't understand why Tseng wasn't understanding him. He ignored the sudden onslaught of dizziness from the recent injuries. The mako would heal them soon enough.

"Didn't you just hear her?" Tseng asked, voice taking on the edge of Turk Commander. Gone was the softness of Sephiroth's lover, leaving only the steel of command in its wake. "They're going to Junon."

Frustration swept through the former General as he locked eyes with the other man. "Then I'll follow them," he declared, fingers twitching. He needed his blade and damn if he couldn't get a focus on the direction of his bike.

Heedless to the argument between the two men, or perhaps because of it, Marlene grew frustrated. "No!" she shouted, interrupting their staring contest. "I'm going to Junon, too. There's something wrong with Denzel!" One small foot stomped the ground as her lips firmed into a stubborn pout. Marlene tugged on Tseng's suit jacket to prove her point, brown eyes hard with determination.

Sephiroth sighed, resisting the urge to pinch his nose, and shifted his gaze to the most rational member of their little group.

"I don't know exactly what they are planning with the children but I know what it means," Vincent supplied, his eyes guarded as they watched Sephiroth, never varying in their intensity. "A fight is on the way."

"I realize that." Sephiroth gestured towards Marlene, hoping that Tseng would take the hint and urge her closer to Vincent. "Please, take her with you."

If he couldn't get his lover to listen to him, perhaps Vincent would prove more amenable. Someone among them had to have been born with common sense. Sephiroth knew he couldn't stand here and debate. He was itching to do something, getting an anxious sensation in his limbs, causing his blood to sir. Mother was planning something, was in the midst of executing those plans, and he was still standing there _arguing_.

Vincent shook his head, pushing Sephiroth to the point of near-exasperation. "If I were to do that, then you would rush off on your own, not heeding your own safety."

"My own life doesn't matter when Denzel and the other children are being manipulated," Sephiroth retorted, raking a hand through tangled hair and wincing when the action pulled one of his many bruises.

The mako wasn't working as fast as usual and he couldn't help but wonder why. Could if have something to do with the Geostigma?

Fed up with being ignored, Marlene jerked free from Tseng's hold and shoved herself between Sephiroth and the Turk. "Mr. Sephiroth!" she cried loudly, reaching up and tugging on his shirt.

The former General didn't even notice her appearance, too busy locking eyes with another will as strong as his own.

"That is foolish."

Sephiroth worked his jaw. "Maybe so," he conceded. "But I have no choice."

Watching the two of them for a long moment, Tseng didn't think once of interfering. It wasn't his place. Instead, he quietly stepped forward and drew Marlene away from Sephiroth, calming her with a few murmured words. Whatever the two men were discussing with their double-meanings and their hinted phrasings, Marlene's input would not be needed.

"Do you think I can't hear her," Vincent demanded, drawing up straight as though he had been accused of something sharp and bitter. "That I don't know what she's promising? Or that I haven't been tempted? You're not the only one who is struggling, Sephiroth."

Something clenched inside Sephiroth's chest, a jarring resonance of familiarity that he wished upon no one. "How?" The query was ground out between his teeth.

Grey eyes returned his stare penetratingly. "Hojo did not limit himself in his choice of test subjects," Vincent replied in a grim tone. "You have to be calm otherwise you will walk right into her arms, which is exactly what they want. This was a trap, or haven't you seen that yet?"

Sephiroth swallowed thickly, and firmed his jaw. He knew that Vincent was right, could feel it. But the stubborn part of him didn't want to admit it. He whirled on his heels, kicking up a small spray of dirt and rock. "Very well," he agreed grudgingly. "We will all return to Junon." With that, he strode towards the forest.

"Where are you going?" Tseng called over him, confused by the action which seemed counterpoint to Sephiroth's declaration.

"To find my bike," came the response over Sephiroth's shoulder, carrying a definite hint of irritation. "With any luck it won't be a mangled mess."

And then Sephiroth was gone, not even the sound of his boots over the nearly frozen ground to mark his passage. He blended so easily into the night.

Left behind, Turk and ex-Turk exchanged glances, but neither had the words to say.

Shaking his head, Vincent pulled out his cell phone, fingers automatically dialing for Cid. They would need a pick up and he knew that Cid was more than willing to provide one. Grey eyes slid to Tseng, who looked as if he planned on diving right into the forest after Sephiroth.

Listening to the phone ring, he directed his attention to Tseng. "Relax," he suggested, sparing the Turk Commander a glance. "There's nothing out there for Sephiroth to fight, even if he wanted."

"I'm not worried," Tseng responded, seemingly on automatic, but Vincent was no longer listening to him. Cid had answered and Vincent had turned away to offer some privacy as he conversed with his lover.

Frowning, Tseng focused his gaze on the path Sephiroth had taken, unable to shake the distressed emotions he had caught in the other man's aura. This whole business was ruining everything that Tseng had fought hard to restore and save. It certainly wasn't helping Sephiroth heal, and that was what concerned him the most.

He worried that he was losing his lover to the past, and to a future that only Jenova wanted. He worried that his voice wasn't enough to call Sephiroth back, that their relationship was that shaky and unfounded. He felt, on some small and terrified level, that he was going to lose Sephiroth before he ever truly found him.

A small hand wrapped around his arm, tugging his attention back towards Marlene. "Is Denzel going to be okay?" she asked, and her eyes sheened over with unshed tears. But she held on strong, determination like steel.

A wave of fear and worry swept through Tseng's senses, pure in their intensity, and he dropped back to one knee. He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders, comfortingly.

"He is strong," Tseng assured her, hoping that he hid the uncertainty in his tone well from the little girl. "Denzel will be fine. And we--" He included Sephiroth in this for reasons unknown to him. "--we will get him back. I promise."

She nodded, brown braid flopping lightly over one shoulder. "I know. Thanks, Mr. Tseng." It was filled with so much gratitude that Tseng couldn't help but feel just a bit guilty because honestly, he didn't know. He was only guessing. But he couldn't tell that to a child. He couldn't let her worry that deeply.

"You're welcome."

He couldn't quite ignore that niggle of doubt inside of him, however. Something that told him all was not going to be as well as they hoped, and that something even larger was coming. Something that was bathed in blood and reeked of death, that promised a deep sorrow.

He could only hope that they were prepared for it, and in the end, didn't lose anyone important to them.

***

Reeve's headache was only getting worse and the bottle of aspirin in his desk drawer had long since run out. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, rubbing fingers over his temples. He could feel it pulsing in his skull and behind his eyes, each stab of pain accompanied by the faint and uncomfortable pull of nausea. He been so sure to save a brief moment for lunch, and now he wished that he had left his personal health to rot.

Something cold and wet pressed to his temple, dripping condensation down the side of his face. Without even opening his eyes, he reached up to take the glass of water that had been handed to him.

"Thanks," he murmured, sipping at it.

"You looked like you needed it," his husband answered, and then there was a rattling sound before something tapped on his desk. "And these, too."

Somehow, Reeve managed a faint smile. "My hero," he responded teasingly, blinding reaching for the bottle of pills.

A few were tapped into his palm before it was closed again. He swallowed down all four of them, took a swig of water, and then prayed that they would work as quickly as they claimed.

"How did it go?" he asked as he waited. He kept his eyes closed. The brightness of the lights overhead only made his migraine worse.

The glass and the bottle returned to the desk with a minor amount of noise before a pair of lips swooped in, pressing to his neck just behind his ear. "Fine," Reno murmured softly, designed to keep from worsening his headache. "Revan cried and Reis was pissed off, but they'll survive, yo."

"Reis was angry? Why?"

Out of concern for the safety of his only sister and his only child, Reeve had arranged for the both of them to be as far from the action as he considered possible. And in the meantime, also under some protection. He had sent both to Rocket Town, where Rude and Barret remained as a line of defense for Aeris, Shera, and their infants.

His husband pressed another lingering kiss to his neck before straightening, and stretching out his body with audible cracks. "Her argument was that if we were injured, she couldn't be here to help. I told her that a Heal or two would hold us together long enough if that happened."

Despite the pulsing of his skull, Reeve managed a light chuckle. "I'm sure that reassured her," he responded dryly.

"She has quite the temper," Reno countered and Reeve was certain his husband was smirking in that usual way of his.

There was a thump, likely Reno plopping himself down on top of Reeve's desk with little regard to the important paperwork. Amber eyes slid open, despite the pain of the bright lights on his headache, and focused on the other man.

"By the way," Reno continued, lifting his legs and dropping them on the arms of Reeve's chair, using his ankles to drag the President closer until he was poised between Reno's legs. "I picked up some extra cargo in Rocket Town."

He couldn't resist the comfort of those arms and Reeve laid an exhausted head down on his husband's thigh, strangely enough, able to feel the strong beat of Reno's pulse. "Cargo?" he repeated, and wondered if the strained, old note was really his voice after all.

"Uhn." Reno's answer was a low rumble above him, and it was comforting. "Yuffie and Nanaki wanted a ride back. I was gracious enough to give it to them."

"Gracious, my ass," Reeve mumbled, but it was a half-hearted tease as he felt the tension gradually ease out of him. The comfort would be only temporary, but he would take what he could get right now.

Reno chuckled and one of his hands found the back of Reeve's neck, rubbing gently and easing out the kinks. It was a moment that Reeve intended to entirely enjoy. It was a moment ruined by the clamorous noise of his phone ringing at full volume, somehow managing to convey a sense of urgency.

Groaning under his breath, Reeve flopped out a hand and dragged the blaring device towards him. He lifted his head far enough to speak directly into the receiver, though he couldn't quite hide the disgruntlement from his tone. Above him, Reno snickered again and didn't cease his light massage.

"Tuesti, here."

"Mr. President?" Reeve recognized the voice in an instant, though he couldn't fathom why Sion would have need to call his direct line.

He sat up a bit straighter, concern beginning to worm its way through his gut. "What is it, Sion? Have you uncovered something on the specimen?"

"No, sir," the scientist responded, and there was clear disappointment in his tone. "But I've come across something else. I've been monitoring the newscasts on the side and there's something you should see."

Amber eyes narrowed of their own accord and Reeve sat up fully, all traces of relaxation pushing out of his body. "What is it?"

"Pull up your monitor to channel 14. I think it's better if you see for yourself," Sion returned tightly and in the background, Reeve could dimly hear the bubbling of the tanks and many experiments currently in progress.

Lips becoming a firm line, Reeve turned away from the welcome warmth of Reno's arms and pressed the button for speakerphone. He returned the device to the cradle and swung his chair towards the screen he kept behind a sliding length of thin wood on the wall. Grasping fingers quickly located the remote and within seconds, the panel was moving aside and the screen clicked on. Two sharp finger presses later and he was on channel 14, catching the tail end of a woman's voice, narrating some event.

"This strange scene before you began about thirty minutes ago," she was saying as Reeve's widened eyes took in the incident. A cold anger began to burn in his belly.

The video was obviously being shot by an amateur, the camera shaky and out of focus. But it was enough to give him a picture of what was occurring. Not even the static in the background could distract him.

There in the main square of Junon and surrounding the fountain was a mob of children, artfully arranged in perfect lines. Stalking back and forth behind the kids were two men that Reeve didn't immediately know, but could recognize as being two of the three silver-haired men. Neither was Kadaj; he knew that for certain.

In front of the children was a growing crowd of adults, all with anger and fear mixed into their expressions. From the muffled sound of the video, Reeve could discern that they were yelling. They were none too happy about whatever the two brothers were doing, though Reeve himself couldn't fathom their purpose.

The female anchor continued her narration, "It has been confirmed that these are the missing children, though it remains unclear just what they are doing. The two men visible in the background also remain unidentified. Angry parents--"

With a click, Reeve cut off the sound of her voice with a firm mute. He didn't need their interpretations. He returned his attention to Sion, tone tight with fury.

"Thank you, Sion. Keep working on that sample."

A brief pause before Sion exhaled. "Yes, sir," he replied simply, and hung up without another word.

Reeve sighed, rubbed his fingers briefly over his forehead, and then reached for the button to the intercom. "Zack, Elena, and Archer, please come to my office," he announced, knowing that the trio had to be somewhere near by. Most likely within a few floors of his office.

Still perched on his desk, Reno made a noise in his throat that his husband couldn't quite interpret. "What are they doing?" he asked, watching the screen intently. His eyebrow twitched and Reeve could almost guess what he was thinking.

Most of the children were 'slum rats,' abandoned or orphaned after the Chaos War. They had learned to band together and survive together. Of course, they had learned where to go for help when they needed it, but for the most part they depended on one another. They were a reminder of Reno's own childhood and he was furious that they were obviously being manipulated in some way.

The children were being placed around the fountain in some sort of arrangement. A wide circle and then a smaller inner circle, all facing out towards the growing crowd. But their expressions were blank, and their gazes glassy-eyed. They didn't move or twitch as the brothers moved them around, didn't seem to care.

"I don't know," Reeve finally answered, and felt frustrated for that lack of explanation. "But I aim to find out."

The moment the three he called for arrived, he was going to send them down there. He knew that Zack and Elena were itching for revenge, the both of them training hard since they had healed from their first encounter with the brothers, and Archer needed the distraction in a bad way. It would be something to keep him occupied, rather than pacing back and forth in the corridor outside of Reeve's office on the off-chance that Kadaj would call again.

Reeve, however, knew that the bigger question lay in Kadaj's location. The youngest male was nowhere to be seen, though he was obviously the conductor of the madness. He was certain that Kadaj had something larger planned and had the feeling it would involve him in some way. After all, Reeve knew the location of Jenova, Kadaj's prime directive.

He had only to wait for the madman to come.

***

a/n: Slowly, laboriously, I am continuing this series. It will be completed! I am determined! (And I'm also devoting the month of December to working on it as much as I can. Pray for my success!)

Again, I do apologize for the length of time between updates. Thanks for sticking with me!


	16. Chapter 10: Complaints of Violence

a/n: An update! Huzzah! Happy New Year! This is my gift to you, my readers. Enjoy!

**Shattered Children: Chapter Ten **

**Complaints of Violence**

"Let them go!"

"What're you freaks doing?"

"You heard him. Let those kids go!"

"Danue! Rita!"

Their words washed over and through Yazoo, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he continued to walk around and around the fountain, mindlessly adjusting the children. Mother was already inside of him, crooning in dulcet tones. Anything beyond her voice, he couldn't hear. And, according to Mother, he didn't need to hear.

Something crashed to the ground at his feet, and a cold splatter was felt through the thickness of his leather. Yazoo paused and frowned, looked down at the shattered bottle oozing a reddish liquid. The smell of tomato and garlic filtered to his nose – ketchup. It was so bright and sharp, like a crimson stain. Yazoo felt his pupils expand and contract, nostrils flaring.

Nearby, Loz also drew to a halt, staring angrily into the crowd. His hands clenched into large, threatening fists.

Another something crashed to the ground at Yazoo's feet, spilling a larger splash against his leg. The harsh scent of some type of alcohol – what a waste – filtered to his nose. It was accompanied by more heckling and jeers, the crowd swelling in its fury. Parents were unhappy.

Mother was not pleased.

_**Show them, my son**_**,** she hissed in his ear, startling him with her volume. _**Show these pitiful humans just who they should respect**_.

And what could Yazoo do but obey?

Loz's muscles tensed as though he had plans to dive into the crowd and create chaos. Yazoo shot him a look. "Wait," he commanded simply. Wait, because Mother had a plan.

He turned towards the crowd, seeing without seeing, a sneer that was pure Mother twisting his fine lips. One hand lifted towards the sky, as if calling for attention. He felt a small measure of the crowd quiet as they watched him, gloved fingers reaching. Yazoo could feel the surging of power, of Mother's will, coalescing in his fingertips.

_**Call them**_, Mother urged, and for the first time, Yazoo felt her claws prick into his brain. He felt the weight of her intentions, and it nearly smothered him. _**Call the shadow beasts. **_

He didn't know what they were, didn't know how. Not that it ever mattered to Mother. He felt her power leap to his call, felt the answer in the darkness. Yazoo's fingers twitched, and he grabbed hold of that trace of strength, and tugged. There was an answering howl in the dim beyond his sight, a growl of merciless hunger.

And then he saw them, rushing out of nothing, forming from a swirl of black mist and fog. They leapt into the crowd by the dozens, fangs bared and claws outstretched. There was screaming and a terrified stampede away as the mob dissolved in their fear. Yazoo's hand dropped to the side in a daze as he watched the Shadow Creepers at work.

Their scent floated to his nostrils. A mixture of rotted wood, brimstone, and death. Death upon death, as if they were carved by his odorous hands alone. It was a smell he was far too accustomed with, and Yazoo's stomach didn't churn at the first whiff of it like it used to.

The children didn't move, not even when the creepers came, buried beneath Mother's hypnotism. They didn't even register fear. Beside him, Loz stood unmoving, and they watched the adults scatter, heard their screams of fear. Mother cackled in the back of Yazoo's mind, a shrill noise that made him wince, though it didn't show outwardly.

He watched impassively, limbs no longer his own, as the beasts tore into their unsuspecting victims. The mass of humans didn't stand a chance, and they fell, one by one. Oh, many were already escaping into the surrounding alleys and byways. Those the creepers didn't bother to chase. But there were enough falling to the beasts to stain the concrete beneath their feet.

Mother reveled in her victory for several long moments and Yazoo felt himself growing sicker and sicker. He wanted to close his eyes against the sight. She wouldn't allow it—he had to watch.

_**Can you feel him? **_She said, voice dangerously approaching a shrill sort of ecstasy. _**He comes!**_

And then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, Mother gave the impression of drawing up straight within his mind. Her presence shifted before abruptly disappearing, leaving him feeling bereft and weak. Yazoo actually stumbled, drawing in his first free breath, feeling returning to his limbs. Brother really must have been near. That, or Kadaj was attempting something else. Mother only ever left them alone for her more favorite children.

A sick sneer spread across Yazoo's lips and he exchanged glances with Loz, the older male blinking in his own surprise. Mother had loosed her clutches on him as well.

Slyly, and ever so carefully so as not to draw her notice, Yazoo surreptitiously called back half of the attacking Shadow Creepers. He didn't dare stop them all, lest Mother return in full force of fury and pain, but if he could stop them from killing just one person...

A female voice rose above the din of the crowd, their screams of terror and the roars of the monsters as they pounced on a chosen victim. "Denzel!"

In tandem, Loz and Yazoo turned towards the voice, an amused little grin on the elder's face. He first set sight on a familiar blond, pushing her way through the crowd, punctuating her demands with shots of her powerful handgun. Shadow Creepers dissolved under the force of the bullets, never standing a chance. And it was clear, by the name she shouted, just where she was heading.

Their bait was still just that: bait.

Feet crunched over the ground, and even though it was impossibly loud right now, the sound traveled to Yazoo's spine and crept to his ears. He shivered, shifting his gaze to find that they were being approached by two men. One he recognized, the other he did not.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Zack demanded, his normally jovial face twisted with a mixture of fury and disgust. His fingers were already wrapped around the hilt of his massive sword, just waiting for the right moment to draw.

One hand settled on his hip as the other flipped hair over his shoulder. "You won't give us Mother," Yazoo practically purred, feeling her influence seep in despite every effort, "so we do what we must."

The one beside him, also dark-haired with the most stunning violet eyes, narrowed his gaze. "Where's Kadaj?" he asked, and there was a touch of pain in his voice.

Understanding washed through Yazoo in that moment. This... this was the man who Kadaj had sacrificed himself for, whom Kadaj suffered Mother's anger for. This was the Archer that his little brother murmured about in his sleep. Che.

"That's none of your business," Loz answered sharply, thumbing his nose and cracking the knuckles of his other hand. "Leave him alone."

Archer shook his head, face grown grim with his determination. "I can't do that. And I can't let you do this. Let the children go."

"No can do," Loz replied, and his stance took on a hint of violence, a hint of threat. Mother was working her wiles on him as well.

Yazoo took the hint and dropped his hand to Velvet Nightmare, thumbing the trigger thoughtfully. He knew Zack's attacks well, and planned on leaving the heavy hitter to Loz. But this Archer... he was an unknown. He looked quick, and he held a Labrys loosely in one hand. He might prove to be a challenge. He had better be, to be worthy of their little brother.

Somewhere beyond them, that woman was still straining to reach Denzel through the crowds of people, taking out Shadow Creepers with every step. But the brothers paid her no mind. What was one child when they had many more?

He tilted his head to the side. "You get one chance," he intoned, watching as both men slipped into their own battle stances. "Where is Mother?"

Zack smiled ever-so-sweetly at them, but it was a grin tainted by a lust for revenge. "Now, telling you would take all the fun out of it." In one smooth motion, he had drawn his sword, the massive blade leveled at the two brothers.

Loz laughed, a half-mocking sound. "Let's dance."

* * *

"If you think you're going to frighten me with your presence, you are wrong," Reeve stated solidly, watching the younger man from the corner of his eyes.

Despite the stunning view afforded by his window, he didn't let his gaze linger on it. Not when there was something so dangerous so near to him.

Kadaj chuckled, though it was without humor, and pinned his eerie, jade regard on the President. "My intimidation doesn't work, you say?" One head gestured faintly towards Reno, hovering in the background. "Your guard dog says differently."

A wave of fury practically emanated from Reno, but Reeve cautioned his husband with his eyes. Getting into a fight would do neither of them any good. He had to know what Kadaj was planning, what exactly it was that Jenova wanted.

Squaring his shoulders, Reeve silently palmed his daggers. A flick of his wrist and they would be in his hand, but he knew better than to think he could throw one before Kadaj could dodge. He couldn't hit Sephiroth, and Kadaj was faster. Reeve was no fool—his daggers provided only a superficial comfort.

He resolved to keep the remnant talking. "Why do you want Jenova?" he asked, wondering if Kadaj would actually give him an explanation this time.

The younger man hummed thoughtfully, pressing a finger to his chin. He watched Reeve from the corner of his eye, a sly gaze. "Have you any idea how it feels to be incomplete, Mr. President?" he countered, and behind his tone, there was the shadow of a woman. Something shrill and certifiably insane.

"I haven't had the pleasure."

That response earned him a glare, something shimmering poison behind the sharp green eyes. "Consider yourself lucky," was Kadaj's dry response. "I need Mother to be whole again. We all do."

"Whole?" Reeve repeated curiously, his confidence bolstered. If he could keep Kadaj talking and not attacking, then he could form a plan much easier.

He had been surprised by Kadaj's sudden appearance in his office. Having taken down the soldiers usually standing guard in the building, Kadaj had immediately demanded his mother, hand lingering near the hilt of his sword. But, he hadn't directly attacked, and Reeve considered that a good thing.

He had Jenova with him, fearing that the remnant would be able to sense her presence and track down Sion, possibly harming the lab technician. Since Sion was unskilled in any form of combat, Reeve had taken the last sample of Jenova and kept it nearby. Even now, his gaze flickered to its hiding spot, one of the drawers of his desk. Reno stood near to it, muscles tensed and angry.

Kadaj shook his head, eyes narrowing as his own stare was drawn towards the window and the view of Junon it afforded. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's not us she wants anyway." A hint of the true Kadaj was in those words and to his astonishment, a shock of sympathy crested through Reeve at the sound of... defeat, for lack of a better word.

"Sephiroth," Reno stated knowingly, inserting himself into the conversation.

"Yes," Kadaj hissed. "Sephiroth. Our dearest brother who thinks he can escape her control." Gloved hands pulled into angry, trembling fists. "Foolish, foolish Sephiroth."

The boy was rambling now, even Reeve could see it. He wondered if there was any sanity left inside of him to save. He thought of Archer, who yearned for Kadaj without even accepting that he had fallen in love with him. It was madness, all of it, and he thought it might not even be worth saving him.

He shifted position, trying to appear less threatening. "What does Jenova want with us?"

"With you?" Kadaj snorted derisively. "Nothing. Mother came to this planet after a long journey through the cosmos to be rid of parasites, of pests, like you. Nothing's changed since her arrival, and I'm the one to carry the mantle until brother--" he sneered, ever so hatefully, "--realizes how foolish it is to defy fate."

A trill of fear wriggled its icy way into Reeve's heart. "And so the nightmare returns," he stated softly, remembering all too well the first battle against Sephiroth, and the plague of Weapons the planet had released in a vain attempt to stop him. The average person hadn't stood a chance.

Kadaj turned to face him, sharp with pupils that flexed between slitted and round. "As long as you exist, the nightmares will come again and again."

Reeve knew enough that Kadaj meant humanity as a whole, that they were supposedly a pestilence on the planet—according to Jenova, at least—and perhaps it was true. It was only by the planet's good graces that they were allowed to survive the cleansing provided by the Lifestream after it had dissolved Meteor. That was how Aeris had explained it, anyway. Reeve never did understand that fully.

He stood his ground in the face of that hatred, which wasn't entirely Kadaj's own and wondered where Jenova began and Kadaj ended. "And we will continue to stop you," he assured, catching eyes with his husband for support before continuing. "As many times as it takes."

A moment passed where the words hung heavy in the tense atmosphere between them. It was both promise and threat. Then Kadaj's lips pulled into an eerie smile, his eyes flashing with a distinct Jenova gleam.

He raised one hand, pointing the black-gloved palm towards the wide window. "I ask you one last time," he began, and the sense of great power swelled in the room. "Are you going to give me Mother?"

Reeve thumbed his daggers, dropping one with a flick into his grip. "I will never hand her over to you," he stated, brows drawing together in determination.

Something flashed over Kadaj's face before he pinched his lips together. "Very well," he declared icily, sending a chill through the room. "Then let's put an end to all this, shall we?"

He turned away from the two men and stared out the window, following the line of his sight with his outstretched palm. Before their eyes, Reeve and Reno watched as his hand began to glow, a blue luminescence curling in bright tendrils around his fingers. It was very similar to the shine of a materia. And accompanying the glow was the rising sensation of power, tainted by Jenova's touch.

Kadaj smirked, glancing at them just once. "Let's see you stop this. Fafnir, _descend_."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than did the clouds beyond the window suddenly take on a bright, nearly pure glow. Lightning crashed, filling the sky with luminescent flashing and setting the air to rumbling ominously. Grey clouds swirled together, forming a dipping bowl before abruptly bursting. And, exploding from their mists, a large creature emerged, a roar already pouring from its mouth. The sound was loud, rattling the windows.

Reeve's mouth dropped at what had to be a summon, but not one he had ever seen before. Bahamut class likely, but beyond that, he did not recognize it. Great wings spread from its back in a powerful wave, and the beast easily outweighed Seiryu in dragon form. Of that, he was certain.

As he and Reno watched, staring in horror, the great creature swooped down on the unsuspecting Junon, claws and talons outstretched. Buildings collapsed to the left and right of it, and Reeve could just imagine the screams of the frightened citizens. More roars rocked the once-peaceful city and a great rage worked its way through the President.

Everything he had worked to save, to rebuild, was effectively being crushed before his eyes again. And what did they face but something akin to another demi-deity? This time, though, they didn't have the help of their anima.

They were on their own.

* * *

An ear-splitting screech split the air as heavy blade met Loz's Dual Hound before skivvying off course and nearly sinking into the ground. Zack was too quick to be put off balance, however, and quickly shifted his stance, lashing out with a high kick. Loz darted backwards to avoid the heavy boot, and the smile on his face grew even larger.

Zack couldn't help but feel as if he were being taunted, his mind choosing to remind him of all the bruises and injuries this remnant had inflicted on him. A surge of anger granted him adrenaline and strength, and he swung the Zanken back in front of him and rushed at Loz once more. He ignored the sounds of other battles going on around him, knowing that if he and Archer managed to take down the brothers, then the shadow creatures would cease as well. Of course, it was also hard to resist the chance for revenge.

The opponent before him was pure strength, each arm-rattling blow a surprising counter against the weight and sharpness of his sword. Zack growled and executed a dangerous slash against Loz, who absorbed the blow with his steel-covered arm and instantly counter-attacked with the other fist. Zack spun out of the way, summoning up a fire spell to his other hand. He shoved it in Loz's direction, cursing when the remnant easily danced out of his way.

Angrily, he shook off the flame and concentrated his hold on his sword, charging towards Loz again. He swore that the other man was smirking at him, taunting him with those eyes that were too much like Sephiroth's for Zack's comfort. He remembered the pain of those fists, the taste of blood in his mouth, and Elena's agonized cries next to him.

It was all the fuel he needed. A roar of fury pouring from his lips, he attacked, again and again. He would take down this man.

Nearby, Archer ducked behind a piece of fallen debris and deftly avoided the spray of bullets that Yazoo had aimed at him. His breath was coming in quick pants, unused to the agile motions necessary to avoid Yazoo's impeccable aim. He tightened his grip on the Labrys, wishing he had something better to attack the other man with than a short-range axe. He would have put more focus on his materia if he'd been willing to risk harming the crowd that still remained, but he wasn't.

Another splatter of bullets sprayed the rock he was hiding behind and Archer cringed, the smell of gunpowder fresh in the air. From the corner of his eye, he saw a few of the children standing idly, and cursed. He wasn't doing any good cowering behind the stone like this. He dove out from his cover and sprinted their direction.

He deftly avoided the dangerously accurate gunshots heading his way, and stumbled when one clipped the back of his leg. It was enough to make him limp, it bled like a bitch, but it didn't keep him from moving. It couldn't take him down. Still spouting obscenities as though they were the only words he knew – thank you, Cid – he pushed a few of the lingering children out of the way. His touch seemed to wake them from their funk, and the minute they hit the ground, they were scrambling to their feet again and running for cover. Smart kids.

Pleased by his heroic maneuver, Archer had no opportunity to bask in the moment before he was diving behind something else for cover. His fingers were still tightened like death around his Labrys – his _useless_ Labrys. If only he could come around Yazoo, attack him from behind. He had to get out of range of the man's bullets... somehow.

"It's your fault."

Archer stilled, the words carrying to him despite the screams of the frightened populace. They were even louder when the resonating sound of bullets faded, leaving nothing but the crunch of boots over grovel, but that didn't make them any less confusing.

He tightened his grip on the Labrys. "I don't think you can blame your insanity on me," he called out, peering around his stone shelter.

Yazoo was steadily approaching, his face a grotesque mix of Sephiroth's beauty and Jenova's raving lunacy. Each step was deliberate and his mouth was thinned into lines of displeasure. His weapon dangled at his side, in a seemingly loose hold. But Archer knew that the moment he moved, it would be up in an instant, firing a barrage of deadly projectiles.

'_Let him come_,' Archer thought to himself.

Close quarters were far better and he had a few spells he'd love to shove up the kid's ass. Oh, they wouldn't kill him. Archer really didn't want to destroy the brat who, just like Kadaj, was only being manipulated. But they would certainly hurt like a bitch and that was what he was aiming for.

"If not for you..." There was a pause and then the next came snarled, half-coherent. "If not for you, Kadaj would not have suffered so much."

A small ounce of understanding washed through Archer. He felt a tightening in his chest at the mere thought of causing his Toki's pain, unintentional though it was. He rose to a crouch, muscles tensed for action.

"He made that choice," Archer called back. He felt that if he could just keep Yazoo talking and distracted, then he wouldn't have to worry so much about those bullets. The rest he could handle.

Of course, Yazoo just had to be contradictory. He didn't much like the sound of Archer's answer and responded with a spray of projectiles that shot off the top of Archer's hide-out. Dust and debris rained down on him, making him cough at the sudden influx of particulate into his lungs.

"Shut up," Yazoo snarled, and that was pure Jenova, her shrill screech somehow infiltrating his masculine tone. "You humans, you--"

He abruptly cut off and Archer's brow furrowed in confusion. He heard a sharp intake of breath and then a pained moan, one of helplessness and fear. Was Yazoo _fighting _her?

Archer decided to take his chances. He wasn't going to cower behind his rock forever. He still had to find Kadaj and save the rest of those kids.

He leapt to his feet and darted out from behind his cover, Labrys in front of him to deflect some of the bullets. He caught a glimpse of Yazoo, one gloved hand buried in long silver strands as he clutched his head. He was biting his lip so hard that blood was beginning to bead. But at the sound of Archer's footsteps, he jerked up his gaze.

Archer got a glimpse of wide, slitted emerald eyes and then the weapon was being aimed at him again. Yazoo squeezed off several shots, face twisted into something ugly and hateful. Archer twisted and avoided one. Another glanced off the flat of his blade. But he was too slow to avoid the next two. He watched with growing horror, anticipating the burn and pain of their strike. Yet, he never stopped pushing forward.

Seconds later, he watched the smirk slide from Yazoo's face as the bullets collided harmlessly against an invisible shield and disintegrated into dust. Normal defensive materia didn't do that since they could only deflect. Archer used the other man's gaping surprise to his advantage and attacked with a hard and heavy swing. Their weapons met with a jarring clang and inwardly, Archer smiled.

_'Thank you, my dear_,' he murmured within, wondering if his lovely anima even heard him. He was certain that it had been her aid, since he hadn't a single defensive materia on him.

And somewhere deep inside, he could have sworn he felt that long dead connection warm just a little. Tiamat was still with him, even if she couldn't be outright. It was a realization that made him feel just a bit less lonely.

"How...?" the question rolled off Yazoo's tongue with a growl as he applied his strength against the greater force of Archer's swing.

The engineer smiled cheekily. "Ancient Wutaiian secret," he responded brashly, unable to help wanting to taunt this opponent. "Handed down in the family for generations, at least, according to an ex-Turk friend of mine."

Those Jenova-tainted eyes narrowed in perfect irritation. "Your humor will not ease your death," he hissed. "Mother will make you bleed."

Despite the situation, Archer couldn't help his chuckle, though it was more mocking than humorous. "Let's see her try, shall we?" he countered, cocking his head to the side.

As anger blazed onto the other's face, Archer pressed the Labrys forward with all his strength, knocking Yazoo off balance. He quickly executed a violent upper-cut, forcing the younger man back several more steps. In a flash, the barrel of Yazoo's weapon was raised again. But before he could squeeze off a single round, the sky above them flashed, brightly enough to make the both of them wince. Beneath them, the ground gave a great rumble of disapproval.

Their eyes were drawn upwards, catching sight of the enormous beast pouring from the sky. A wave of nearly crippling power accompanied its appearance as its roar reverberated through their bones. Massive wings spread out to each side, easily longer than the Valenwind in length, and each limb ended in wicked claws. Around them, the citizens began screaming in terror and ran even faster than before, if that were at all possible.

Even Zack and Archer felt the momentary urge to flee, but it was quickly abandoned when their opponents rushed them once more. Their surprise melted away as they returned to their battle stances.

"Denzel!"

With a fierce growl, Elena shoved her way through the crowd, never losing sight of that head of tousled brown hair. He didn't even look up to acknowledge her presence, and a fierce, burning anger stirred in her gut. Kadaj and his brothers, they had done this to him.

A Shadow Creeper keened as it drew near to her and she fired without thinking, watching with satisfaction as a Flare exploded in its face. It instantly dissolved back into black ash, leaving nothing but the faint stench of sulfur in its wake. She wrinkled her nose and pressed on, trying her best to ignore the danger circling above them.

Darkness fell over her and Elena looked up to see the summon preparing to land. Mouth dropping into a gape, she ducked to the side and narrowly avoided getting flattened by a large, taloned foot. Rolling to her feet, she forced herself to keep looking, but wasn't prepared for the huge appendage to swing her way. She had forgotten about the tail.

It slammed into her upper body, knocking her breath from her lungs and sweeping her off the ground. She felt and heard something crack ominously – her ribs, it must have been her ribs. And then she was propelled backwards, only the protection of a hastily cast shield protecting her form the worst of the damage as she struck the side of a building.

Lights and colors danced in front of her eyes as she slid to the ground, struggling to stay on at least her knees. Elena's entire body shook and her head spun, the feeling of something warm and wet trickling down her neck. A careful touch brought back bright crimson fingers. Head wounds always did bleed more.

Her hearing was a dull roar, the strike enough to limit her senses. But she couldn't afford to stand around and recover. Denzel was somewhere out there, and Sephiroth would be upset if something happened to him, as would her commander.

Forcing jelly-like legs to recover, and keeping one eye on the constantly swinging tail, Elena jumped back into the fray.

"Denzel!" she screamed above the racket, idly pushing frantic civilians out of the way and towards safety.

A glance was spared to Archer and Zack, locked in combat against the two brothers. She had only a brief moment to wonder about Kadaj's location before concentrating on her own task. Logic told her he was probably at the source, the WRO headquarters, and Reeve and Reno could take care of themselves. Denzel, however, could not.

She saw the children through gaps in the crowd, still somehow maintaining their perfect circle of madness. They remained blank-eyed and oblivious to the chaos around them, though there were fewer than before. Some had regained their senses.

Elena strained for a glimpse of Denzel as above her the summon roared and flared out its wings, the far reaches of them striking against buildings and causing a shower of glass and debris to rain down. She threw up her hands to shield her head and neck, but wasn't prepared for the sudden explosion to rocket through the area. Whatever the creature had destroyed had ignited a fierce blaze, which was quickly licking through one of the buildings.

The boom rattled the ground and nearby structures, causing more glass to shatter and sprinkle the ground. Elena could feel it falling over her and hoped she wasn't amassing a series of small cuts. They would hurt like a bitch later. A wash of hot and smoky air flitted her direction for all of an instant before a single wave of the summon's wing forced the ashy particulate to dissipate.

The explosion had nearly deafened Elena, but somehow, she managed to pick out a few noises. And above the din of monster's roaring and people screaming, she caught the sound of propellers whirring.

Reinforcements had arrived.

* * *

"Watch your asses down there!" Cid called out, over the loud whirring of the airship's blades and motors. "Me'n Vince'll join you in a minute."

With the wind buffeting them from all sides, causing the landing platform to sway in mid-air—and Tseng's belly to lurch uncomfortably—those gathered could only nod in understanding.

Sephiroth inclined his head. "Hurry, Cid," was all he said, standing stiffly by his bike as the platform slowly lowered towards the ground.

It was the closest thing to free space in the crowded streets of Junon, and the nearest they could get to the commotion several blocks over. The taste of danger was strong in the air, and Tseng felt the familiar coiling of his senses. One hand dropped to Yoshiyuki, taking comfort from the strong hilt, while the other remained clasped tightly in Marlene's grip.

As much as he didn't like it, having her there was unavoidable. They hadn't time to take the little girl back to Rocket Town where it was safer, and Tseng knew he couldn't leave her on the airship. Without supervision, she was likely to get herself in trouble. He had resolved to take her to WRO headquarters, serving the dual purposes of speaking to Reeve and finding somewhere safe to leave her. There were few places safer.

She looked up at him, and offered a thin smile, eyes still bright with fear. The roar of the attacking creature – bearing suspicious resemblance to the anima – had frightened her the first time she heard it. Yet, there was a determination in her young features, as well as worry for Denzel. She had already expressed interest in wanting to come with them to find her friend, and Tseng had expressly forbidden it.

Above them, Cid gave a mock salute and disappeared from their sight, reaching for the lever to continue lowering the platform. Tseng turned his attention to Junon, and the madness he could see just beyond them. If he concentrated, the screams of fear floated easily to his ears, and the sense of danger and terror hovered on the edge of his consciousness, fighting to get beyond his barriers. Those screams were far louder.

Beside him, Sephiroth was grim, one hand locked around the handle of the Odin to keep it steady, and the other twitching over the hilt of his sword. A swirl of emotions danced behind his eyes, and Tseng was once again glad for the shielding he had crafted over his senses. He had the feeling that whatever Sephiroth was experiencing was strong enough to cripple him. They hadn't had the time for any sort of discussion—wouldn't until the enemy was defeated—and Tseng was painfully aware of how much needed to be said.

A fierce and bestial roar grabbed Tseng's attention and he watched as the Bahamut-similar dragon shot into the sky, spreading its wings out broadly. It threw its neck back, and a prickle of power raced across Tseng's skin. The same feeling of right before materia was used. Its mouth opened, revealing jagged, sharp fangs and even from a distance, Tseng could hear its harsh inhalation.

His eyes widened in shock. "It's going to attack," he breathed in horror, unable to tear his gaze away.

No sooner had the words left his lips than did a glowing ball of light and energy coalesce in front of the creature's mouth. After another quick flap of its wings, it released the sphere of pure power and sent it straight down on unsuspecting Junon. Explosions and fire shot up in its wake as nearby buildings exploded. The beast roared its victory and swooped over the burning remnants of its handiwork.

Marlene's hand clenched tighter around Tseng's. "Denzel..." she murmured and looked up at him. "Denzel is okay, isn't he, Mr. Tseng?" Brown eyes were filled with a mixture of terror and worry, making her seem far older than her young years.

Tseng nodded jerkily, wishing he could be more sure of himself. "Denzel is fine," he assured. "He is strong."

She wasn't quite convinced, but chose to believe him nonetheless. In her eyes, Mr. Tseng and Sephy could do no wrong, and he was grateful for that innocent trust and understanding. It was something he cherished in her.

On the edge of his senses, there was an anguished and dark buzz and it churned his belly. Startled, Tseng turned to see Sephiroth's face paler than usual, his hands shaking fists at his sides. He was staring in the direction of the destruction, brows drawn low and face pinched. It didn't appear he was focusing however, and he was chewing on his bottom lip, a very un-Sephiroth-like action.

"Seph--" Calling his lover's name died as the platform came to an abrupt and rather painful halt, jarring all of them uncomfortably.

Tseng quickly shifted his weight to adjust his balance, grabbing Marlene so that she didn't tumble over. She clutched at him and somehow managed not to waver.

As the platform jerked to a stop, they disembarked, Sephiroth rolling Odin off with stiff movements. Tseng caught his arm before his lover could escape however, forcing Sephiroth to look at him. Silver eyes searched green-grey, and he didn't like the look he caught there. Sephiroth was on the edge, and he wondered if even now, Jenova was taunting and tempting him. That broiling darkness on the edge of his lover's mind grew stronger.

"Is she speaking to you?" he asked, hoping to kami that he wasn't overstepping the undesignated boundaries that Sephiroth created for them.

The fact that his lover couldn't meet his gaze was all the proof that Tseng needed. He tried to ignore the screams of the citizens and the roars of the beasts, both airborne and grounded. He felt on the verge of pleading with Sephiroth, just to listen to him and to ignore her, but did he mean enough to the other man to make a difference?

Instead, he opted for something that meant just a little bit more. "Denzel is waiting," he stated quietly, paying little attention to the hands tugging at his arm or Marlene's insistent pulls towards the commotion.

"I know." Finally a response, though it was jerky and stilted. "I'm not--" He broke off with a grimace, lifting a gloved hand briefly to his head before sucking in a deep breath. "I'm not listening." But it was clear by the tightening of his mouth that the simple act of pretending to not hear was painful.

"Mr. Tseng!" Another sharp tug. "I see him! I see Denzel!"

He wanted to grab Sephiroth, to kiss him or hold him, to do something to assure him that he was there, that he wasn't leaving anytime soon—no matter what Jenova tried to tell him—but he had the feeling his affection would be rebuffed. He cursed the ever-widening distance that bitch was so effective at creating. The darkness pulsed even stronger, filling him with a wash of nausea.

With a rough yank, Marlene tore free from his grasp and sprinted away from the two adults, running at full tilt towards the mass of commotion. Despite his distraction, Tseng immediately noticed, calling her name. But she ignored him, her sight set on something far ahead of her. Denzel most likely.

In a flash, Sephiroth was gone, hopping on Odin and screeching into the crowd. A quick swipe of his sword and two Shadow creepers were destroyed before they could kill anymore innocent civilians. Tseng was left cursing under his breath, reassuring words lost to the commotion. He didn't waste any more time chasing after Marlene, obscenities pouring from his lips in a manner that would have made Highwind proud.

If only Marlene weren't so stubborn and determined, if she were only a bit less brave. He wished he had left her on the airship in that moment, flying monster in the air or not. Cid was more than adept at taking care of himself and his belongings. He could have protected her much better, he was sure. If anything happened to her...

Yoshiyuki flew to his hand as he put on a burst of speed, hastily scanning the crowd, which still remained large despite the proliferation of dangerous creatures. Tseng suspected that they really had nowhere to run, and were left milling about in the midst of peril.

How in the hell could she move so fast? Kami be damned, he could have sworn Marlene was wearing pink, yet he couldn't see her! A trickle of fear joined the bevy of emotions and Tseng pushed onwards.

A Shadow Creeper fell into his path, jaws gaping wide to snap up his head. It was treated to the sharpness of the Yoshiyuki and quickly dissolved into black mist, further obscuring his vision. A gust of wind from the creature's wings overhead cleared it away, but it didn't lend him a glimpse of Marlene.

It took every effort for Tseng not to panic, with both children now lost to the pandemonium. Along with the worry came the terror, a fear that had the arm of a machine gun and bullets to match.

Barret was going to kill him.

* * *

a/n: Lessee, we're about halfway through with the fic at this point. I'm trying not to fall behind, so give me a prod if I forget. -grins- Glad to see you guys are still sticking with me. Hope you enjoyed!


	17. Interlude 5: The Cost of Sympathy

_a/n: The first scene takes place between Shattered Dreams and Shattered Children. The second scene takes place before Shattered Dreams. _

**Shattered Children: Interlude Five**

**The Cost of Sympathy**

She felt the kiss against her cheek before anything else. Zack was getting better at sneaking up on her. This time nothing gave him away until she felt his warm lips press against her. Elena smiled, turning to greet her lover.

"Hey, hot stuff," she said, sliding her arms around his neck. "I didn't catch you this time."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her body against his. "I told you, didn't I? We SOLDIER's are good at what we do."

Elena rolled her eyes and rose up higher to kiss him, their tongues immediately tangling together in a sloppy kiss. He felt warm and his clothes slightly damp, the sharp tang of sweat on the air. She pulled back, wrinkling her nose.

"Been training again?"

Zack shrugged, rattling the sheath on his back where his enormous sword hung. "I managed to convince Seph to stick around for a few days. If I don't keep him occupied, he'll run off again."

"And then you'll pout," Elena said with a faint grin, remembering how Zack had first acted when Sephiroth disappeared.

He had moped around like a lost puppy, so damn concerned that he had hardly eaten. It had taken her rapping him firmly upside the head to get him to get over everything and act like a man. And that was on top of dealing with her Commander's behavior as well. Tseng had been ten times worse than Zack, although he had hid it a lot better.

"Oi!" Zack countered, giving her a faint squeeze with his arms. "I'm a man. I don't pout."

She chuckled at him. "You pout," she said, trailing her fingers upwards and plucking them over his stiff locks. "Between you and Tseng, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Zack snorted, leaning down to nibble at her throat and ear. "Hey, I'm not nearly as much a handful as Seph is or Tseng."

"Maybe not." Elena hummed, shivering as his tongue nipped rather pleasantly at her, stirring her body into responding. "Don't you have work you should be doing?"

"Don't you?" he responded, breath warm against her skin before he dropped his mouth lower, tugging aside her collar so suck on her shoulder.

She promptly forgot about the files on her desk, or the phone that was likely ringing in her office. She was supposed to be off in an hour or so anyways. What was wrong with cutting out a little early, especially when Zack was doing _that_ with his tongue, one of his hands already wandering to her breast. Suddenly, she wanted a place with a surface. Wall, floor, couch, it didn't matter.

"Nothing that can't wait," Elena managed to gasp out, pressing forward and rubbing her body against his. She could feel his growing arousal nudging her and she wanted it inside her.

Zack chuckled, his hand dropping to her buttocks where he hitched her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Want spread through Elena's body and between the two of them, it didn't matter that one of her coworkers could walk in at any minute. It only added an edge of excitement.

She purposely avoided thinking of their prospective charges, emotionally stunted Sephiroth and emotionally stupid Tseng. How either men were capable of surviving on their own, Elena would never know. And it was partly because of them that there was so much uncertainty between her and Zack.

She thought she might have loved Zack. There was a part of her that was really fond of his presence, that made her insides warm whenever he smiled at her. Elena loved the way Zack touched her and how happy he made her feel. But she also knew that she could never be completely devoted to him, that she didn't belong wholly to herself and therefore, couldn't give all of herself to him.

Tseng needed her too much, even if he did have Sephiroth. And she understood that it was the same way for Zack. Sephiroth only trusted Zack, though he was slowly letting others in. He depended on his younger companion with a need that was almost painful to watch. And Elena couldn't begrudge him that. There was nothing but love between the two men, unromantic, but love all the same.

Zack could never belong wholly to her either.

She had told him twice before that she loved him. Once in the heat of the moment when she hadn't been thinking it and it had slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. And again, when she had been serious and they had been talking about their future. The look in his eyes had been unreadable.

He hadn't reciprocated, but she had made it clear that she didn't need him to. It was simply something she had given because it belonged to him. She knew Zack wasn't absolutely certain of his own feelings, and was loathe to say anything without being sure. It didn't hurt her, because she knew he cared in his own way. It might not have been love, but he did hold affection for her. And honestly, she wasn't the type that needed to be told a thousand times a day. She didn't need that reassurance.

Zack's lips found hers again even as one of his hands dove between their bodies, reaching for her belt and pants. She helped him out, all that eager to feel him moving inside of her. Zack was fire and heat, the power to her storm. She happily tasted of him, her mouth hungrily devouring his.

Besides, Elena wasn't ready for all that family nonsense yet. She wasn't Rude or Reno, she didn't want to settle down with a husband and have kids. She wasn't ready to be a mother or create the perfect happy home. There were too many things yet to do and Tseng needed looking after, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She had every intention of ignoring it. She wrapped her fingers in Zack's spikes all the harder, pressing down against him encouragingly. He growled in his throat, taking a step forward and pushing her against the wall.

His fingers fluttered inside her pants, dipping beneath her panties and ghosting across her folds, already beginning to dampen from her arousal. Elena moaned, jerking her hips against his.

"Hurry, soldier boy," she murmured against his lips. "Or I might end this for you."

He gripped her ass all the tighter. "Bossy," Zack muttered with a smile. "I don't know why I put up with you."

The buzzing against her hip was still going. It was getting to be rather annoying. She tried to push it aside and buried her tongue in Zack's ear, sucking on it mercilessly. It was one of his sweet spots, she knew.

"Shouldn't you answer that?" Zack asked after a minute, when even he, too, could feel the vibrations.

She groaned, knocking her forehead against his shoulder. "Do you really want me to?" She could feel his arousal pressing against her.

"Not really," he answered. "But it might be important."

Sighing, Elena freed one hand and dove into her pocket, pulling out the ringing phone. She glanced at the name on the readout and repressed the next sigh, pressing SEND and bringing it up to her ear.

"Elena, here."

Tseng's voice poured through the receiver. "Where have you been? I've been calling for the past five minutes."

"Sorry, boss. I was... otherwise occupied," she responded, sharing a secretive smile with her lover. "Why? What's going on?"

"I have an assignment for you," her boss answered, even as Zack dipped his head and started nibbling on her throat again. She was sure to have a mark later.

She fidgeted, her arousal not fading in the slightest. "Is it necessary for right this second?"

"Well, no, but--"

"Good," she interrupted chirpily, not feeling the least bit ashamed of herself. "Then I'll be up in ten--" Zack coughed. "--twenty minutes. By the way, boss, Sephiroth's in the building."

As Tseng sputtered on her parting words, she hung up the phone and promptly dropped it to the ground. It bounced on the carpet, completely unharmed. If it vibrated again, she wouldn't be able to hear it.

Smiling, she returned her attention back to her lover. "Now, where were we?"

He was all too willing to pick up the pace.

*****

"You look bored."

Green eyes turned towards the busty young woman impassively. "Not really," Yazoo responded before shifting back towards staring through the glass.

He was currently sitting in the window seat, arms locked around his knees as he stared at the lights of the town. Loz was playing some game in the other room. Kadaj was still sleeping off the last effects of whatever strange experiments they had been doing on him. It was mercifully quiet. Yazoo enjoyed the moment, it gave him time to think, though about what he wasn't quite sure.

The woman looked at him, reminding him that he was still uncertain of his motives, before moving to sit on the seat next to him. She turned to face the same view as he, and silence reigned for a time.

"Don't you have any hobbies?" she asked finally, clearly trying to make conversation. It was something new to Yazoo, speaking with others, holding an actual conversation rather than waiting for the next pain to start.

He shook his head. "How would I?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I was just curious." The woman – Tifa, he reminded himself – turned her eyes back towards him. "Can you read?"

He frowned. "Of course I can."

"It was just a question, no need to be so defensive," she responded, her voice pleasant. But it did nothing to ease his mood.

His fingers drew tighter around his knees, anger still boiling beneath the surface though it didn't show on his expression. "Why did you save us?" he asked, staring hard through the window. He idly wondered if he could touch the stars, still fascinated by a brightness he had only seen perhaps twice before.

She hummed in her throat, fingers tapping an idle pattern on her knee. "I wonder," Tifa responded. "Why didn't I just let them kill you? I should have. It's not like this world needs another Sephiroth."

"Or three."

Tifa tipped her head. "Or three," she amended.

Silence reigned for another long moment. In the background, they could hear Loz whooping as he defeated his enemy on the game he was playing. Something called _Mortal Kombat_, if Yazoo remembered correctly. It was the perfect thing to distract his elder brother, who after rounds of testing, ended up rather simple-minded.

He was keeping an ear cocked for Kadaj as well. His little brother was going to be racked with nightmares for some time, and Yazoo was ready to move at a moment's notice. He knew what it felt like all too well to be suffering from bad dreams with no one to wake him. And Kadaj was the strongest of them.

They were brothers; they had to stick together.

"I don't believe I even thought about it," Tifa finally said, leaning against the wall with an almost nostalgic smile on her face. "When I heard about what they were doing, when I saw how young you three were, I just acted."

"But you hate ShinRa," Yazoo countered, having heard the women's diatribes not long after she had pulled them from the laboratory.

She inclined her head, and he watched as her fingers clenched and unclenched, power practically rippling through her arm from the simple motion. "Yes, I do. But I also loved ShinRa, once upon a time. Maybe. In my own special way. But I also think, that I might have loved him just a little more."

"Him?" Yazoo couldn't help it; he was intrigued by this woman. She could be so vicious, but also kind. And he was indebted to her, since she had saved them. He wanted to understand.

Tifa hummed, her cherry-brown eyes shimmering. "The three of you... sometimes it's like I can see him in you. All of you. I don't know. Maybe me saving you was penance for not saving him all those years ago."

"Do you mean Sephiroth?"

The woman scowled, shooting him a look. "Of course not," she snapped with a snort. "I hate Sephiroth. He took everything from me." Her hand fell to her belly, as if remembering an old wound. "Everything I could have wanted, he stole."

Yazoo frowned, looking down at his folded hands, all pale and unmarked. He knew Sephiroth had been branded and tattooed, but he and his brothers had not. In fact, there was a lot different in the way they had been created and raised. It was as if Hojo did not want to make the same mistakes, though he delighted in the hatred he had managed to cultivate.

"Who is it then?"

She shook her head, a mirthless huff escaping her. "You wouldn't know even if I told you his name, unless Hojo bragged about what he did to him." She paused, looking Yazoo over. "Then again, maybe you would. I see a lot of Cloud in you three, Yazoo. And maybe, that's all it was. The same helplessness, the same begging to be saved."

Yazoo blinked in confusion as Tifa slid away from the window seat, rising to her feet. She smoothed down her shirt with one gloved hand, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes weren't on him, but flickering restlessly over the rest of the room.

"Whatever you three do now, is up to you. I've given you your freedom but I can't decide what you do with it. All I ask is that you refrain from destroying this world. No matter how much revenge you may want to cultivate."

When the last of her words fell, Tifa left from the small sitting room that Yazoo had taken up residence in, her stops silent across the floor. She turned down the hallway, likely heading towards the kitchen to whip up something for dinner, leaving the silver-haired boy to his thoughts.

He turned his attention back towards the window and the night beyond, mulling over her comments. Forget the anger. Forget revenge. Easy for her to say when she hadn't suffered anything like he. But then, none of them really considered revenge. They never thought further than existing because escape seemed so impossible. Yazoo had been ready to die in that sterile place. Loz was only waiting for it.

He hadn't ever expected rescue, he hadn't expected to be given a chance to live. And now, he didn't know what to do with the life he had been given. He could still feel the mako, burning in his blood, and there was an urging, faint but present, at the back of his mind. But it was dull and incoherent, not yet pressing.

He wondered if it was Jenova. If the strange cravings for violence and the desire to spill blood were hers as well.

He wondered if he even knew how to be human.

Another roar and Loz celebrated another victory. There was a low thump on the wall to his right, the one that separated this room from the bedroom he shared with his three brothers. As expected, the nightmares had come.

Yazoo unfolded his limbs and rose to his feet, sweeping his hair over one shoulder. Silent steps took him out of the room and to the right where he made his way to their bedroom where the door was shut. He cracked it open, peering into the darkness broken only by a small nightlight.

Kadaj was tossing and turning on the bed, lips muttering incoherently though the fear was evident in his tone alone. His forehead was plastered with sweat, causing his hair to stick to it. It was too familiar a sight and Yazoo hated just the glimpse of it.

Still, he entered the room anyways, and sat on the edge of the bed. One hand came out, grabbing Kadaj's shoulder and squeezing gently. His brother was shaking beneath his grip, entire body wracked with trembles.

"Kadaj," he said, just loud enough to wake his brother but not startle him.

A low moan filled the room as Kadaj froze and then collapsed back against the bed. A moment passed before his eyes fluttered and he awoke, though the shaking did not subside.

"Yazoo?" His voice was raspy, as if he had been screaming endlessly though Yazoo would have heard it. Then again, there was such a thing as silent screams. A pain so intense that it stole your voice and your breath.

"Dreams again?"

His younger brother nodded and turned away, staring at the wall. "Bastard," he hissed lowly. "If he weren't already dead, I'd kill himself." But he also sounded vulnerable, for all his tough guy act.

"I know." Yazoo watched his brother for another moment, watched Kadaj try to get control of himself and failing miserably. "You should go back to sleep. Finish burning the poison out."

A sharp bark of mirthless laughter escaped the younger boy. "Right. I'll get on that."

Yazoo frowned and then swung his legs up onto the bed, lying down behind his brother.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll sleep better if I'm here, won't you?" Yazoo asked. "Or would you prefer if I went and got Loz?"

Kadaj was silent before shaking his head. "He would hug me to death."

"That he would."

Yazoo knew his brother would never admit it, but it was obvious by the way his body calmed that Kadaj was comforted by his presence. In the darkness of the room, sharing a small bed like they had so many times before, it was easier to deal with the nightmares. It had always been bright in the laboratory. Bright and lonely.

Quiet fell on the bedroom again and Yazoo let his breath even out, wondering if he would be able to fall asleep as well. He wasn't really tired but one could never get enough rest, he supposed.

"Yazoo?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we're human?"

The middle brother blinked. It was odd for Kadaj to ask him anything like that. "I don't know. Tifa seems to think so."

Kadaj snorted. "She would." He paused, and then changed directions. "Sometimes, in my dreams, I'm not. I'm a monster that destroys everything. I've even burned down a town and murdered indiscriminately. It makes me wonder if maybe, my dreams just reflect reality."

"I don't know how to answer that nii-chan."

The younger boy patted his hand over the mattress, as if fascinated by the comfort of it. "I don't either. I don't really at all."

Kadaj said nothing more and moments later, Yazoo heard the deep and even sounds of his breathing as he drifted back into sleep. As for himself, however, he lay there for most of the night, simply thinking.

And wondering.

*****

a/n: Another update. Huzzah! And still more to come. The story is about halfway through at this point, with all the big action coming. Hope you guys are still enjoying!


	18. Chapter 11: A Flash of Calamity

_a/n: This chapter goes fast, guys. Just a warning._

_Oh, and here lies implied character death. Please, don't kill me._

**Shattered Children: Chapter Eleven**

**A Flash of Calamity**

The screams were noticeably quieter and his left leg felt crushed beneath something heavy. Those were the first things that filtered through to Zack's conscious. A groan escaping from his mouth, his eyes fluttered open. He couldn't see much through the haze of smoke and ash, but the smells were enough. That damn summon packed a powerful punch.

Forcing himself up to his hands, Zack rose shakily to his feet, dislodging the bit of stone that had fallen over his legs. It slid to the ground with a pronounced thud, sending up a stirring of dust. Luckily, he wasn't injured, though the aches in his body seemed to say otherwise. His head pulsed within his skull and one of his fingers throbbed painfully.

Gritting his teeth, Zack grasped the finger with his other hand and cursed fluently as he pulled it back into place. Bone and tendon ground agonizingly before it slipped back into place. Sucking in several deep and pained breaths, he ripped off a section of his shirt and bound that finger to the taller one next to it. The half-assed job at fixing would have to do for now. He had the eerie feeling his opponent had been no more destroyed by the blast than he had.

His senses were accurate.

They flared to life and Zack threw himself to the ground, ducking and rolling in the same instant. He narrowly avoided the fist that smashed into the concrete where he had been standing, leaving a small crater in its wake. Zack was on his feet in seconds, though a bit shakily, eyes taking in the sight of Loz, completely unharmed. That same eerie, Jenova-tainted grin was on his face.

Loz didn't give his opponent chance to recover, already yanking his arm-weapon free from the ground and darting towards Zack with a speed that seemed unnatural for his large body. The former SOLDIER worked to deftly avoid the blows, meanwhile scanning the ground around them for his sword. He winced at the sight of broken bodies buried beneath rubble, but there was nothing he could do for them at the moment.

All too soon, the bitter scent of spilled blood joined the odor of blaze and burning. And above him, the summon continued to circle, wreaking its own brand of havoc.

Zack flipped backwards, scraping his palms on some debris and narrowly avoiding Loz's Dual Hound. He felt the air whistle past him as he landed, finally spotting his sword lying close by. His senses tingled and he dove for the blade, Loz' weapon crashing into the ground and splitting the concrete as though it were mere paper. Electricity crackled along the metal of the weapon.

His stretching fingers curled around the hilt of the Zanken and Zack rolled to his feet, lifting the blade in the nick of the time. Loz's Dual Hound crashed against the flat of it as his free first flew forward, aiming for Zack's face. He twisted out of the way, catching the hammer blow in his shoulder. Fiery pain spread through the limb from the force of the strike and Zack hissed, backpedaling quickly.

Loz smirked, cracking the knuckles of one hand. "You're more fun when you're tied down," he taunted, circling around Zack.

The dark-haired man forced himself to breathe, feeling as if his chest had been punched rather than his shoulder. "And you still hit like a girl," he countered, fingers tightening around the Zanken. "What's the matter? Mommy doesn't have time to play with you?"

Green eyes flashed, going strangely elliptical as Loz's face darkened. He pointed his finger at Zack in obvious anger. "Don't refer to Mother so disrespectfully, human. She _is_ Mother."

It was a statement that made little sense, not that their obsession with an alien from the stars made any sense to begin with. In the back of his conscious he could hear Archer clashing with Yazoo, but couldn't tell which of them had the upper hand.

His entire focus was on his own opponent, whose personality seemed to be shifting from child-like taunting to cold and calculating. The very attributes of Jenova. She obviously didn't have enough concentration to spare for controlling all three of her toys.

Zack wondered if any of the three brothers could be saved.

"You're human, too," he retorted, feeling his boots grind on the evidence of fallen buildings beneath his feet. And above him, that summon roared, as though selecting another target to demolish. "Just like Sephiroth."

Loz twisted his jaw, swallowing thickly. "Brother is better than us," he spat, and there was a trace of jealousy there. Not poisonous, but melancholic. As if he knew what would happen when his usefulness ended. "He is Mother's chosen."

"And what does that make you," Zack questioned lowly, feeling his senses tingle. "Where do you stand?"

"None of your business!" Loz roared, darting forward and swinging the Dual Hound at him with a ferocious attack. It was all Zack could do to avoid the sudden onslaught of anger.

"A human can't understand!"

_Clang! Scrape!_

He twisted to avoid the weapon and felt it scrape along his side, giving him a jolt. Zack jabbed the Zanken backwards, the dull edge of the blade scraping alongside Loz's knee.

"_You_ can't understand!"

There was more than anger there. It was hurt and it was pain and it was confusion and it was _Sephiroth. _At least, to Zack, it was. They reflected his best friend so much that it was almost painful to him. And again, he asked himself if they could be saved. And if he could watch himself watch them die without even trying. He thought of Archer, desperately fighting for a love that might have been doomed from the start.

With a growl, Zack dropped to his knee, falling under one of Loz's high and most likely painful kicks, and slammed his palm to the ground. He wasn't sure what he expected, but when the earth responded to his touch, he felt a stirring of pride. Fenrir hadn't completely left him after all.

Stone slabs shot upwards, spiking through the ground and surrounding the two men within an instant. A smaller one, blunt at the end, funneled out of the concrete and threw itself at Loz. It slammed into the remnant's chest, knocking him backwards and into the solid wall created by Zack's abilities.

Loz snapped against the harsh stone, losing his breath at the painful slap of his body. The Dual Hound cracked on the granite, and something fizzed on the weapon, a piece of metal falling from the weapon and to the ground. Loz groaned as he slid down, legs crumpling beneath them and feeling like jelly.

Zack was across the small space that entrapped them within seconds, one boot pinning down the arm with the attached weapon. He lifted the thick blade of the Zanken and placed it under Loz's chin, sharp edge nicking the man's throat. His dexterous sword carefully twisted the blade, making Loz's head tip upwards to look at him. He met eyes that though they were green, flashed with indecision.

He thought that maybe there was still something to be saved.

* * *

Her entire body hurt, feeling as if she had been bombarded with boulder upon boulder. Which, in retrospect, was probably what had happened. The summon's attack had done a good job of destroying a good portion of buildings around it, and it appeared the thing was gearing up for another attack. Not good.

She wiped an irritated hand over the blood streaming into one eye from the cut on her forehead, and gave up her dropped gun for a loss. It was somewhere beneath the rubble and she had more important things to do than spend time searching for it. Besides, Elena could always make another. Perhaps one with even better firepower this time.

A quick glance around the area and information began to filter in. The air was clogged with dust and smoke, making it difficult to both see and breathe. But Elena could tell that the Shadow Creepers had completely vanished, likely because Yazoo must have been caught by the blast and momentarily knocked unconscious. She knew better than to believe that he had been killed. Jenova-creations were too much like roaches. Nothing could destroy them.

People were slowly rising to their feet and walking around in a daze. Others were waking, noticing the danger that still circled in the sky, and darted to safety. The circle of children had completely vanished. The clashing of weapons floated to her ears and she caught flashes of Zack and Archer battling the silver-haired brothers. Che. Like she said – roaches.

Cursing under her breath, Elena waded into the crowd, trying to direct the frantic masses towards safety. She urged them towards the building, to run far from the threat, all the while keeping her eyes peeled for Denzel. How the boy had managed to disappear, she didn't know.

"Denzel!"

Elena paused mid-step and whirled at the familiar voice calling for the young boy. Her eyes frantically searched the crowd, seeing a blur of pink some distance from her. Marlene...? But what was she doing here? Shouldn't she be somewhere else? Somewhere safe?

Marlene was running without a care for the danger surrounding her, obviously searching for Denzel much like Elena was. Gritting her teeth, Elena changed direction, abandoning her hunt for Denzel for the moment. Marlene she could at least see, and then the two of them could look together. She couldn't just watch the young girl run around without any protection.

"Marlene!" Elena yelled, trying to be heard above the crowd and the ruckus, ducking down as a small building to her right exploded. It had been struck by a random spell from Yazoo's and Archer's duel. In fact, the two of them were flinging magic every direction around them, a danger for the innocent bystanders.

The little girl heard her voice and whipped around, searching for the source of her name. Her face brightened with relief as she spotted Elena, immediately altering her course, and was nearly knocked down by a passing stranger. Above her, the summon passed and the downsweep of his wings sent a stirring of wind across the ground, strong enough to cause several to lose their footing.

"Stay right there," Elena ordered, pushing someone impatiently out of her way as she promptly leapt onto and over a boulder. "Don't move."

Nodding, Marlene did as she was told, though her eyes were wide with fear. Understandable, given the situation. The courtyard was rapidly clearing of the mob, leaving only a few stragglers behind as they all poured into the alleyways to escape the circling menace. Skirting around a still smoking piece of debris, Elena chanced a glance at the sky and abruptly paled, her breath catching in her throat.

The large summon was banking downwards, as if seeking a place to land. She recognized its intentions, and a part of her didn't want to know what it planned to do. She needed to get Marlene and find Denzel _now_. There was no more time to waste.

"What are you doing here?" Elena huffed, finally skidding to a stop beside the little girl and automatically scooping Marlene into her arms. She grunted a bit at the addition of the extra weight. She wasn't as small as she used to be.

Rubbing a hand across her face to clear the dust and grit out of her eyes as well as a few fresh tear tracks, Marlene pouted stubbornly. "I wanted to find Denzel, but I can't see him anywhere."

"I'll find him," Elena promised, holding Marlene tight against her as she searched for somewhere safe, preferably away from pending summons and the two duels going on a short distance away. "But for now, we have to get you somewhere safe."

Marlene's fingers tightened around her arm. "We can't do that," she countered, her eyes filling with tears. "Denzel will get hurt."

"And so will you," Elena responded, finally spotting an alleyway that looked promising. Very little traffic and a pretty clear route to get to it. Not to mention none of the buildings around it were in danger of suddenly crumpling downwards. Perfect.

In her arms, Marlene wriggled, obviously trying to get down. "'Lena!"

"You're brave, Marlene," she responded in exasperation, setting the girl back on her own two feet and grasping her hand strongly. Refusing to let go. "More so than most people I know. But sometimes, bravery's not enough. Like right now."

Her lower lip wobbled, indecision etched into her young features. Elena wondered if she had been that determined and stubborn, that courageous when she was Marlene's age. Would she have been willing to run into the middle of a battlefield after her friend? Elena couldn't honestly answer that.

Squaring her jaw, Marlene finally acquiesced. "Fine," she muttered, stomping one foot against the ground and nearly tripping on a rock. "But you'd better hurry."

Elena breathed a sigh of relief, and quickly moved towards the alley way she had spotted earlier. She never loosened her hold on Marlene's hand, carefully tugging the young girl after her. Elena could hear the evidence of Archer and Zack's fights in the distance – the clashing of swords, angered and heated shouts, magical explosions. And the ground abruptly rumbled as the summon landed, its mass causing the earth to quake.

The blonde Turk was nearly tossed from her feet. As it were, she stumbled and crashed into a fallen wall, dragging Marlene with her. She enclosed the young woman in her arms, bending over her to protect her from the dropping debris.

It took several long moments for the shaking to fade and once it did, Elena straightened, coughing as dust entered her lungs. "You all right?" she questioned, glancing down at Marlene.

She nodded, coughing into her palm. "What is that thing?" Marlene breathed, brown eyes wide with fear. "It looks like Seiryu but it's not."

"I don't know," Elena replied, grabbing her hand firmly and pulling her towards the alleyway, ducking and dodging around the new obstacles. "But we can't fight it from down here."

As if responding, the creature roared loudly, the sound loud enough to make her ears rattle and her head spin. Elena glanced over her shoulder, fear striking her heart as she watched the monster's mouth open, a blue glow glimmering behind his teeth. That did not look good in the slightest. And her chest was beginning to ache, her breath wheezing from her prior injury. Not for the first time, she cursed Jenova and everything the bitch had done.

"Elena! Look out!"

She reacted without thinking, grabbing Marlene and diving to the ground, crying out when she slammed harshly into a piece of unforgiving concrete. Mere milliseconds later, a stray flash of lightning streaked through the air where she had just been standing, lending a stench of sulfur to what was already dust-clogged. Elena chanced a glance, realizing that the spell had come from the direction of Archer and Yazoo's fight, the former having tackled the latter and struggling to gain control of the battle.

Elena hauled herself to her feet, and immediately felt a twinge in her shoulder. It ached and felt tender to the touch, proving that she would have a lovely green-black bruise in the future.

"Is Archer going to be okay?" Marlene asked, her voice trembling. The courage was still there, but it was obvious she was also afraid, especially when the ground gave another harsh shake as the creature shifted position.

Swallowing thickly, her mouth ashen and dry thanks to all the particulate in the air, Elena felt as if she were lying. "Of course," she responded, as the dark shadow fell over them, blocking out the bright light of the sun.

In front of her, Marlene stiffened, brown eyes wide. And Elena felt her heart give a careful stutter. Pulling the little girl close to her, she glanced over her shoulder, and emitted a low curse under her breath.

The summon loomed over them, but only dismissively. It hadn't even noticed their presence, in fact, too preoccupied by the sudden attack it seemed to be under. All Elena recognized was a cerise blur and the sound of gunshots, multiple ones. The creature roared its displeasure, its wings twitching as its tail abruptly rose into the air.

"We've gotta go," Elena urged, stumbling forward and pulling Marlene after her. "Now, Marlene. Hurry."

The little girl didn't comment, only rushing after her with fear etched into her face. She had paled, and her hand was trembling in Elena's own.

Something whistled in the air above them, the alleyway tantalizingly close. A dark spot of hope against the terror that pounded through her chest. There was a thunderous crash and the sound of stone dropping to the ground, glass breaking and sprinkling everywhere. Somebody screamed and only belatedly did Elena realize it was herself as she jerked Marlene into her arms and hunkered down, praying to Kami that everything was going to be all right.

And then the building fell on top of them.

* * *

Masses of frightened people were never the easiest to navigate, hysteria pushing them to act both selfishly and irrationally. Tseng cursed under his breath as he tried to push through the flowing crowds, going in numerous directions and making it impossible for him to find a steady path. Every time he bumped one of the frightened people, his mind would latch onto their emotions whether he liked it or not, their terror too strong to be effectively blocked. Which might have had something to do with the monster circling overhead.

Gritting his teeth, grey eyes searched frantically for one child amid the sea of stampeding humans. Shrieks of terror filled the air, blasting his ear drums as well as his mental senses. This couldn't get any more difficult.

To his right, a building suddenly imploded, raining bits of debris down on the rampaging herd. Tseng weaved past the scattering strangers, nearly tripping over something's legs. He looked down, clamping down on nausea when he spotted the charred remnants of something that might have once been human. The smell of cooked flesh worked its way into his nostrils and Tseng heaved, forcing himself to press on.

Sephiroth would never forgive him if something happened to Denzel or Marlene. Hell, Tseng would never forgive himself. They were only children. Raised in a time of war and witnessing more than those their age should, but still just children.

Reaching up, Tseng summoned a tie from his pocket and hurriedly pulled his hair out of his face. It was difficult enough to see without the strands blocking his vision. His swords bumped against his legs as he twisted to avoid one of the fleeing strangers, and_ finally_ he broke free from the press of people.

Tseng found himself standing in the middle of the square that had once been used to celebrate any number of things. The statue, once prominent, was nothing more than a smoking, smoldering piece of debris. And the summon, it was slowly rising into the air once more, batting wings and causing a flurry of dust to scatter around it.

The Turk Commander lifted a hand to shield his eyes as he searched for the children, finding it easier now that most of the mob had scattered. Now, there was only piles and piles of debris to search through. But was Denzel even still here? Perhaps the boy had already escaped, like the rest of the crowd. And was Marlene somewhere present as well?

Cursing under his breath, Tseng realized that he had very little choice in the matter. The only way to find either of them would be to rely on his abilities, ones that he strictly avoided whenever possible. Sucking in a deep breath, the Wutaiian closed his eyes and tried to focus. His hands curled into fists at his side as he slowly, carefully lowered his defenses, letting the voices and the emotions filter in.

"_Where is she? I can't find her!" _

"_Dammit, breathe!" _

"_Mommy!" _

"_It's no use. Run, idiot! Ru--"_

Tseng gasped, biting his lip as he tried to control the influx of images and voices flowing directly into his brain. So much terror and pain, it was influencing everything else and he couldn't focus. He wished, in that moment, that Orthrus was there to help him. But there was no time for useless thoughts and he pushed it aside.

Ignoring the pulsing of his skull, Tseng concentrated again, this time focusing his mind on their voices, on what he recognized of the two children. Somewhere on the edge of his conscious, beyond the dimming black and grey, he heard crying. Soft weeping and the trickle of smaller rocks over larger ones. To his right.

"_Sephy..." _

Silver eyes snapped open. That was Denzel; Tseng was sure of it. Keeping his senses unblocked, he pinned down the location, following it with his feet. Denzel's inner voice was getting stronger now, and Tseng felt a measure of relief. The boy was frightened and worried, but he was alive. He was himself. That was all that mattered.

Closing off the connection, and infinitely relieved that the pressure on his mind had faded, Tseng continued his search. Cautious footsteps took him to a pile of debris, once part of an office building it appeared, and the sound of sniffling from beneath the stones. There was a sort of hollow, or opening within the granite.

Crouching, Tseng peered into the gloom, ever mindful of the threat of the summon. "Denzel?"

The sniffling abruptly stopped and there was the sound of stone grinding on stone. "Mr. Tseng?" A small, dirty hand emerged from the darkness as Denzel crawled out, a head of shaggy, brown hair first visible followed by the rest of him. "You're not hurt!"

"Thankfully, no. What are you doing there?" the Turk asked, reaching to help the boy and set him on his feet. He was practically covered in stone dust and dirt, but he didn't appear to have any major injuries. A gash on his cheek and some minor bruises. Nothing terribly serious.

The boy wiped at his face with the back of his hand, doing nothing more than smearing the dirt. "Hiding," he answered succinctly. "I woke up and I was here and I can't remember anything." His lower lip trembled, genuine perplexity in his expression. "I don't know what's going on. Where's Sephy?"

"He's here," Tseng assured the boy, rising to his feet and glancing quickly around him. "I'm not sure where, but he is here. He was very worried about you."

Denzel lifted a hand to his chest, where he seemed to be gripping something through the fabric. "Really?" There was such hope in that simple word, and Tseng wondered if Sephiroth even knew how much this one little boy cared for him.

He reached out, taking Denzel's small hand. "Of course. And now we've got to get out of here before something happens." Dropping his free hand to his pocket, Tseng pulled out his cell phone. He was greeted with the truth of having no signal, unsurprising considering all that the summon was destroying.

Tseng sighed, wondering how he was going to get Denzel out of here safely. And where exactly that refuge could be found. The summon still circled above, but at least the shadow beasts had vanished. Small favor.

He'd found Denzel, but now Marlene was still missing. Was it possible for things to get anymore difficult?

Tseng curled his hand tighter around Denzel's. "Let's go." Sephiroth would never forgive him if he let something happen to Denzel. And Tseng was determined not to let his lover down. Nor could he forgive himself.

He would protect Denzel, even if it cost him his life.

* * *

Kadaj cackled, throwing his arms into the air as he watched Bahamut ZERO wreak havoc on Junon, coming dangerously close to their building but not attacking it outright. The summon knew where its master was located, after all. And Mother, she practically trembled with glee inside of him.

So close, they were so close.

Behind him, the President and his lackey could only gape in horror and Kadaj felt infinitely pleased with himself. Or rather, Mother was proud of him.

He watched triumphantly as several buildings went up in flames, dropping debris down on the unsuspecting many. This was what the humans faced if they did not return Mother to him.

"See, Mr. President?" Kadaj demanded, as he slowly turned back towards Reeve and the red-haired buffoon that served as his bodyguard. Blue eyes faded back to their normal bright jade. "There is nothing you can do to stop us."

Reeve, who had paled significantly since the summons appearance, fought for some sort of composure. He hadn't wanted to play his cards so soon, but the situation called for it. He couldn't let that monster destroy everything he had worked hard to build. Nor could he allow Kadaj and his Mother to kill that many innocent people.

He slid one hand into his desk drawer, sliding aside the secret panel and withdrawing a slim black box. The insides sloshed around disgustingly and Reeve tried not to grimace as he held the object, slowly rising to his feet. He quickly exchanged glances with his husband who stepped nearer, hand dropping to the EMR always belted at his side.

Kadaj was smirking as he faced them once again. "You are nothing more than obstacles in Mother's path," he declared as Reeve stepped around his desk, slowing bringing up his hand and the box it held. "And together we--"

The remnant's declaration abruptly ended as he stared at the container that Reeve held. His eyes fluctuated, pupils expanding and contracting, and he sucked in a breath. His arms fell to his sides, all sense of glory vanishing from his expression.

Reeve's gaze narrowed, his fingers white-knuckled around the box that contained that last surviving piece of Jenova. "Good sons would have noticed," he taunted, slowly circling around Kadaj until he stood at the windowed doors to the balcony, able to see the destruction the remnant's summon was causing.

"Give her to me," Kadaj stated slowly, his voice a low and weighted hiss. His hands balled into fists at his side, jaw squaring with disgust. "_Now_."

"I don't think I will," Reeve countered, slapping his free hand against the wall where the balcony began, revealing a panel.

He opened it deftly without looking, inputting his passcode. A series of beeps and clicks announced his success and then, the doors to the balcony slowly slid open. Reeve stepped onto it, never once taking his eyes off of Kadaj.

A low, barely human growl echoed in Kadaj's throat, and his knuckles creaked as he tightened his fists. "Give. Her. To. Me," he repeated, eyes flashing in and out of sanity. If he had even had it to begin with.

Reeve shook his head, unfailingly calm on the outside, though within his knees were like jelly and his stomach carried a flock of butterflies. "Stop attacking my city," he demanded firmly, lifting his hand until it held the box over the edge of the railing in obvious threat. "Or I drop it."

"Mother is no _**it**_," Kadaj hissed, stalking slowly towards him, each step heavy and deliberately cautious. He didn't even seem to notice that Reno was matching him move for move, aquamarine eyes worriedly bouncing between his husband and the remnant. "She is Mother. And she will rule this planet."

Reeve didn't even flinch, though his fingers felt sweaty around the box, and he wondered if when he did drop it, would it be by choice or accident? "Jenova is an alien creature. She is not your mother, nor my sovereign. Call off your creature, Kadaj. Or lose this monster forever."

Kadaj screamed at him, an almost unholy sound, and all semblance of humanity seemed to vanish from his expression. His eyes had turned completely jade, slitted like a cat's. No trace of the man that Archer loved stirred in their depths and Reeve wondered if he had already completely succumbed to Jenova's influence. Perhaps there was nothing left for them to save.

"Give her to me!" Magic curled at the edges of his leather-covered fingertips.

Reeve's eyes narrowed. "I won't."

In the distance, the summon roared loudly and Kadaj seemed to echo the sentiment as he rushed at Reeve, faster than the President could see, reaching for the box containing Jenova. The younger man collided into him with all the force of a low-powered materia spell, driving the air from Reeve's lungs as he was shoved against the railing. He nearly dropped the compartment as his back slammed into the metal, creaking dangerously under the combined force.

"Reeve!"

He would not give her to him.

"Dammit, you bastard!"

He would not watch his city fall again.

* * *

The sound of a shotgun echoed above Sephiroth and he glanced upwards, finding a bright crimson blur bouncing all around the summon. The shots sounded powerful, destructive. No doubt they belonged to the Dirge of Cerberus, Valentine's strongest weapon. And there were few who could pull off those moves, which bordered on the ability to fly.

Shaking his head, Sephiroth quickly drew the Murasame from its respective compartment and powered down Odin. It would take a miracle for the cycle to emerge from this unscathed, but he didn't have time to take it away from the battle. He would simply have to hope that it didn't get damaged.

One powerful leap took him to a nearby rooftop, and then a second followed, landing atop the nearest building. It just happened to be the WRO's headquarters, he realized belatedly. Sephiroth hadn't even known that the fighting was that close to Junon's central hub. The former General came to a rest beside another familiar face, cigarette smoke clouding around the man's blond head.

"I thought you gave those up," Sephiroth commented quietly, his gaze focused on the huge summon in the sky.

There was another puff before the cigarette was flicked over the side, tip flaring as it fell. "Desperate times," Cid grunted, twirling his spear on his fingers as he placed one boot on the railing of the roof. "What Vince don't know won't hurt 'im."

And with that, the captain promptly flung himself over the edge of the roof, having timed his leap perfectly. He landed on the summon's head and with a great roar, aimed the tip of the spear into its head. The creature keened loudly, trying to shake off its unwanted passenger. Cid hung on with surprisingly tenacity, however, the creature momentarily distracted as a crimson blur shot past it, shoving several large bullets into its face.

Shaking his head, Sephiroth tightened his grip on the Murasame and stepped onto the stone railing himself. He looked down at the streets of the city several feet below him, and prepared to leap into battle. Without their anima, they couldn't possibly hope to defeat the summon on their own. It would take a combined effort, he was certain of this.

The wind whipped his hair around his face, momentarily blinding him. And up here, the smell of destruction was even stronger. Ash and fire and charred flesh, it clogged his nostrils. Were he never a military man, it would have made his stomach clench. As it were, however, he bore it with a grimace. One never actually got used to the stench of war, but he knew how to handle it.

The summon -- who superficially resembled Seiryu -- banked into another turn, coming in range of Sephiroth. His muscles tensed, prepared to jump, when suddenly twin blurs of orange and pale brown streaked past him, feline growls echoing in their wake. Sephiroth blinked in shock as two lion-wolf hybrids flew through open air, latching teeth and claw onto the summon.

One he immediately recognized as Nanaki, the Iyatokan's body shimmering mid-air and shifting shape into his demi-human form. Fierce claws raked into the summon's side as his feline companion roared, moving almost faster than Sephiroth's eyes could follow. Agile leaps and twists carried the second Iyatokan over and around its opponent, its brown fur a dark, beautiful shade.

"Who...? What..?"

There was the barest sound of movement as Nanaki appeared on the stone railing next to him, crouched down and eyes flashing with a hefty dose of anger. "Beautiful, isn't she?" he commented, almost off-handedly as he eyed a wound on his arm, likely from one of the summon's many small spines.

Sephiroth blinked. "She?"

The younger man grinned, cracking the knuckles of his weaponed hand. "Yuffie," he explained succinctly, only to promptly leap back into battle, a high-powered Fire pouring from his fingertips.

The sphere of flame slammed into the summon's side, singeing its blue scales. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air as the beast roared in agony, but did not cease its assault. Large teeth snapped dangerously close to the female Iyatokan's – Yuffie's, Sephiroth now knew – head. With a twist of her lupine body, Yuffie flitted out of the way, her flip causing her to land on a lower roof, temporarily out of harm's way.

Thoroughly impressed, Sephiroth thought it was time for him to join the battle as well, before anyone else was injured. He ignored the coiling press on the back of his mind, the black fingers trying to seep into his brain. Jenova was calling to him, but he would ignore her. He would not give in, not this time and not ever again. Because Sephiroth had tasted freedom, and it was sweet.

Eyes narrowing with his resolve, the former General curled his fingers around the Murasame and leapt into battle, his first strike a highhanded slash across the side of the summon's face. Sparks flew as his blade scraped along the scales, the attack reverberating up into his fingers. The creature roared in annoyance, shifting to rise higher into the sky as the Murasame fought to break through its scaly barrier.

With a curse, Sephiroth broke away from the attack and dropped down to a lower roof, landing with a jarring thud and crouching to absorb the impact. The building shuddered warningly beneath him, proving that it was already barely standing. He watched as the summon's claws raked into the side of a building, raining glass and debris down on the courtyard below, its whipping tail shearing the spires of several other structures. A cold, blue light grew in strength behind the beast's curved fangs.

Cursing under his breath, Sephiroth summoned the strongest magic in his arsenal – an Ultima. As the sickly green flames sputtered to life amongst his fingers, he shaped the magic to his liking, forming a sphere of immense strength. Sephiroth could feel the magic sapping at his energies, drawing the necessary power from within him. Were he any other creature, any other human, it would have killed him. But Sephiroth had already faced the truth. He would never be any other human.

Eyes taking on a faint jade gleam, the roof cracking beneath his boots, Sephiroth let a growl echo lowly in his throat. Energy crackling on his fingertips, he promptly threw the massive Ultima-Flame at the summon, the spell catching it on the side of the neck and melting through its scales within an instant.

The summon instantly reared, wings snapping out to the side as it keened in pain. It's attack soared harmlessly into the atmosphere, exploding in a nearly blinding display way above the clouds.

Sephiroth didn't let the brief moment of victory betray him, he was too well-trained for that. Instead, he drew the Murasame and leapt into battle once more, aiming the god-like blade at the weakened throat of the beast.

Go for the jugular. Just like ShinRa had taught him.

Have no clemency, show no mercy for it was nothing but a weakness. Hesitate and the innocent died. Strike hard, strike quick, and at the point where the enemy was weakest. Destroy them until nothing remained, and fight to the end. Only cowards ran, and there was no room for a coward in ShinRa's army. No room for mercy in Jenova's world.

Gray-green eyes shifted to bright emerald, and a snarl painted Sephiroth's lips as the Murasame bit deeply into the summon's flesh. He didn't notice that the others had drawn back, to nurse their wounds, or to simply watch him. He didn't even realize that he was the only one fighting now, ignoring the blood that rained down on the destruction. A demi-deity's blood. At least, he wasn't foolish enough to try and kill it. Only injure it a little, force it back to the immortal plane.

He never even noticed as those nauseating fingers pressed further on his mind, or when the poisonous presence seeped heavier into his conscious. Jenova's triumphant chuckle was a mere battle threnody. The aching of his back, pulsing with new pain as the Geostigma ate at his flesh, spreading even further, was a mere annoyance.

No mercy, Sephiroth reminded himself. _No mercy._

* * *

a/n: I think intense is the word you're looking for here. I know writing it I certainly felt on the edge of my seat. And it's only going to get more intense in the coming chapters. Be prepared!

Thanks to everyone who's been sticking with me through the length of this incredibly long arc. I really appreciate your support, and I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. See you next time!


	19. Chapter 12: Labyrinthine

a/n: An update! Huzzah! Sometimes, I surprise myself. I'm thinking we have about eight more chapters in this to go. Perhaps more. We'll see. Enjoy!

Also, this is self-beta'ed. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. I tried.

**Shattered Children: Chapter Twelve**

**Labyrinthine**

"Get off him, bastard!"

Reeve, in the midst of struggling with Kadaj, heard the expletive seconds before a red-haired blur threw himself into the conflict. The railing creaked again, giving a metallic groan of weakness. In flashes, he caught sight of Reno jabbing an elbow into Kadaj's side, the close quarters preventing the use of his EMR. The remnant merely hissed, however, backhanding Reno across the face and sending him spinning from the force of it.

Gritting his teeth in anger, Reeve jerked a knee into Kadaj's side, knocking the brat off balance. He underestimated the younger man's strength, however, and those fingers tightened painfully around his wrist. He swore he could hear the bones creaking as they ground together, sending shocks of agony through his arm.

"Gah," he gasped, his body curling towards the balcony flooring as he feared any further movement would break his wrist. "You're insane, Kadaj. She will kill everyone, even Archer. Do you want that?" he gritted out, breaking into a cold sweat.

"Nothing matters so long as she rules," Kadaj screamed, his face reddening and it was quickly followed by several harsh breaths. He was fighting to breathe and Reeve was startled to see his eyes flex in colors, shifting shades so rapidly it was almost eerie.

Was he _fighting _her?

The lithe body slammed against Reeve's, a shoulder driving the breath from his body. The railing gave another warning groan and gave slightly beneath them, prompting a rush of fear to attack Reeve.

Kadaj hissed. "_Nothing_!"

And though he hadn't originally wanted to, Reeve's fingers slipped. The box slid from his grasp and he watched with horror as it began to fall, his last bargaining chip. Kadaj, who had been eyeing the compartment avidly, screeched like a mad man, abruptly tossing Reeve to the side as though he were a mere doll.

The president tripped inelegantly over his own feet and hit the ground, struggling to breathe. It had felt as if all of Kadaj's strength had been pressing on his rib cage, compressing his lungs until they felt near to bursting.

Coughing, Reeve attempted to rise to his feet, struggling all the while as he chased away the stars in his eyes. A red-haired blur streaked past him, colliding instantly with Kadaj and sending the both of them slamming harshly into the railing. There was the buzz of electricity as Reno jabbed the EMR into Kadaj's side, causing the remnant to shriek with pain and slam a fist into Reno's face. They wrestled against the railing, Reno grabbing Kadaj's collar and shoving him against it forcefully.

That was the last the metal wished to take.

Reeve watched with horror as the barrier suddenly gave way beneath the weight of his lover and their enemy. It released a final, metal screeching groan and then broke free from the balcony, sending both men tumbling over the edge. In that moment, Reeve hated himself more than any man possibly could for not getting the damn thing fixed sooner.

"Reno!"

Scrambling forward, ever mindful of the new edge, Reeve peered frantically over the boundary. His mind had gone white, absolutely _stupid_, as he caught sight of the two men still falling, grappling mid-air until Kadaj kicked Reno and they separated. They were a good hundred stories in the air. No way either could survive the attack.

His heart climbing into his chest, pounding so hard that he felt it would burst at any moment, Reeve frantically searched his materia store. A Float. A Shield. Fire. Contain. Heal. A few useless Summons. Dammit! Why didn't he ever carry anything of aid? Useless, all of it!

Snarling in both pain and fear, Reeve's fist slammed into the concrete of his balcony, splitting two of his knuckles. He felt tears prickling at the edges of his eyes as he lowered his head.

And then there was a flash below him, pale green with a hint of sparkles dancing in the air. On the wings of the bright flicker was an immense sense of power, ancient and potent. _Familiar_.

Peeling his eyes back open, they immediately widened in shock. There, having scooped Reno out of the middle of air, was none other than Asclepius, in her Carbuncle form. The mint-colored demi-deity was practically purring as Reno hugged her from where he clung to her back. Reeve imagined that his husband was probably cooing his thanks, giving his animus much praise.

Reeve sighed in relief, though it was quickly aborted when he caught sight of Kadaj. Like a true incarnation of Sephiroth and Jenova, the remnant made it safely to the ground. Somehow managing to land without splattering himself and catching the box in mid-air, before it too could break apart and spill its contents. Kadaj was cradling the small hazardous waste container close to his body, holding it almost reverently.

And he had landed between two forms, also crowned with silver hair. Reeve could only assume that they belonged to Loz and Yazoo, the two eldest of them. Two other bodies stood near to the three brothers and if Reeve squinted, he thought he could identify one as Archer and the other as Zack. They seemed to be a little worse for wear.

As he watched, he could have sworn that Kadaj looked up at him, and smirked, his body language practically proclaiming his victory. He promptly tucked Jenova under one arm and lifted his other hand, pointing it at Archer and Zack. The familiar glow of materia use surrounded his gloved fingers and then the two men were diving for the ground, something like a cross between an Ultima and a Bolt streaking towards them.

By the time the glare and the danger faded, the three brothers had vanished, ducking back into the WRO headquarters of all places. Why, Reeve simply didn't know.

Rising to his feet, Reeve eyes moved to follow Asclepius, whose powerful leaps had taken her back to the top of the building. She keened musically as she came to a stop on the balcony, eyes glinting mischievously. No sooner had Reno slid down from her back than her entire body gave a light pop, and she returned to her human form.

"Ichigo!" the demi-goddess purred, throwing herself at Reno and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I missed you."

Reno staggered from the force of her affection, but returned the embrace nevertheless. "I thought you guys weren't allowed to come down here anymore."

A guilty look crossed the young woman's expression as she slowly detangled herself from Reno, patting him gently on the cheek with the palm of her hand. "Technically, we're not. But I couldn't just sit here and do nothing."

"You're here to stay?" Reno asked, his face flushed and pale. His body was still somewhat shaking from his near brush with death.

Asclepius shook her head as Reeve moved to join them, wrapping his arms around Reno and breathing a sigh of relief. "Damn you and your reckless ways," he muttered, wondering if his heart was ever going to return to its normal rhythm.

"I can't," Asclepius answered, her tone apologetic. "Without the bond between us, the length of time I can spend here is now no longer than an average summon." No sooner had the words left her lips than her body began to shimmer, taking on a transparent edge. "I'm glad I was able to see you again, though."

Reeve drew back from Reno, the both of them turning to regard the summon thankfully. She seemed heavyhearted, missing the usual glint and sparkle to her eyes. Asclepius really had missed them. And then, with a final waving goodbye of her fingers, she was gone, as abruptly as she had appeared. The two men were left alone on the balcony.

The president had only a second to breathe before his husband's hands cupped his face, dragging him near for a relieved kiss. Reno's lips brushed across his, his forehead pressing against Reeve's. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Reeve knew him better than he often thought he knew himself.

"Idiot," Reeve murmured affectionately. "You're the reason I'm going gray."

Reno chuckled lightly, his shoulders sagging in relief. "You're the one imagining the grey. You really should think of it as a distinguished silver, yo."

A sharp roar filled the air, far different from the sound of the still circling and attacking summon. Both men turned in tandem, stealthily creeping towards the edge of the balcony. Peering over the side gave them a brief glimpse of three shapes speeding out of the building, blurring away on the backs of loud and rumbling motorcycles. No doubt the remnants were making their escape.

"Dammit. And they have Jenova," Reeve spat, hating himself for letting Kadaj and the piece of alien flesh escape from him. He might have very well handed the end of the world over on a freaking silver platter.

Power trickled over his skin, but not the heady press of an oncoming summon like Asclepius' arrival had heralded. This was more subtle, more earthen. This was _materia_, and something else, something a bit more human.

Reeve sucked in a breath, whipping his gaze around to track the epicenter of that power, which roiled through the air. Above them, the summon roared loudly, its wings snapping back as it began to hover over Junon. Claws clacked noisily, and the beast drew in a heavy rush of air, filling its lungs. Pale blue light sparkled in front of its fanged mouth, and Reeve could practically feel the danger oozing from its hovering body.

"It's going to destroy everything," he stated with horror, face going abruptly pale. Reeve's hand clutched to Reno's tighter, craving a comfort he didn't think was possible.

His husband cursed fluently under his breath, worry gripping his heart. His only consolation was that their daughter was not within Junon, but far away in Rocket Town. Safe from harm.

But then, the feeling of power, prickling over their skin, grew even stronger. It carried a different sense than the ancient fury that emanated from the summon. It was a fierce, determined strength, seemingly brimming from nowhere. Reno broke free from Reeve's embrace and moved to the edge of the building, looking over it in surprise. Wind whipped at him, threatening to push him over and he dropped to his knees to ward off most of the pressure.

Looking down, aquamarine eyes widened at the sight. "Sephiroth," he breathed, catching sight of the former general leaping from rooftop to rooftop, sometimes running directly along the side of the buildings, climbing ever higher.

Hands grasped Reno's shoulders, squeezing tightly as Reeve hunched behind him. "Will he make it in time?"

"He had better."

A keen gaze caught sight of their fellows, scattered around the many rooftops. All eyes were locked on Sephiroth who was leaping directly into the air, aiming straight for the summon. Power surged and swelled around him, the sickly-green of an Ultima spell, entwined dangerously with something else. Something black and hungry.

The creature and Sephiroth collided in mid-air, the former General cleaving through the summon's gathering of energy as though it were nothing. His own magic, whatever he was calling, combated strongly against the outpouring of power. Blue energies clashed with greenish-black, tendrils of darkness colliding and taking over the summon's attack.

And then the Murasame swept through in a wide arc, the blade gleaming with power. A blinding light flashed and Reeve and Reno were forced to look away as a luminescence the same as the sun covered the entire area. There was the sound of an explosion, a massive ripple of force that rocked at every building, making them shake in their foundations. Something screeched in absolute anger, and then there was a sudden fall of silence.

Reeve forced his eyes to open, the blinding light now gone, and stared in shock as the creature tumbled from the sky, raining black blood down on Junon beneath it. The dragon crashed into one of the buildings even as it began to dissolve away, leaving a film of black ash in its wake.

As he gaped, something in his pocket began to jingle and vibrate all at the same time. Confused, Reeve dug out his cell phone, surprised to find that it was his sister calling for him. And if he didn't answer, she would get worried, so he had no choice but to.

He held the phone up to his ear and was greeted with a buzz of static that made him wince before Reis' voice poured through the receiver. In that same moment, Reno grabbed his arm, pointing out a helicopter that was foolishly circling the sky. Though, it had enough sense to do so after the monster was defeated and not before.

"Everything's fine!" Reeve attempted to tell his sister, but the dissonance in their connection was making it difficult to carry on a conversation.

"He did it," Reno shouted above the whistling wind, which whipped at their hair and clothing. "That silver-haired bastard did it!"

* * *

"Sephiroth!"

No sooner had he touched foot to ground then did someone call his name. Sucking in a breath, feeling a little disconnected, the former General turned, the voice accompanying the low rumble of a cycle motor. He found none other than Odin approaching him, a familiar face behind the wheel. No, _two _familiar faces.

Blinking in surprise, he lowered the Murasame, trying to shield the sight of the blade dripping blood as one of the passengers practically leapt off the bike and sprinted across the ground.

"Sephy!" A small form barreled into him, child-sized arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing tightly. "You're okay!"

Setting his free hand on the brown, tousled hair, Sephiroth breathed a sigh of relief. "One could say the same for you."

The boy just nodded against his stomach, burying his face into the fabric. He didn't appear to want to let go anytime soon. Sephiroth lifted his gaze to his lover, Tseng flipping the kickstand into place and slowly rising from the cycle. His brow furrowed in confusion, something lingering at the back of his mind.

"Wait," Sephiroth began, glancing around him pointedly. "Where's Marlene?"

Tseng visibly winced, his face paling significantly as he brushed stray strands of hair out of his face. "I have to go back to look for her. I couldn't do it and protect Denzel at the same time."

Hands clenched tightly into Sephiroth's clothing, as though Denzel were refusing to release him anytime soon. "She's missing?" Sephiroth repeated, horror creeping into his expression. "How can she be missing?"

"I'm sorry," Tseng replied, shame flooding him. "She broke away and I lost sight of her in the crowd."

"Dammit." Swearing fluently under his breath – likely thanks to the influence of the Captain – Sephiroth thought furiously. "And this isn't over yet. Unless we stop the brothers, this will never be over."

He realized that utter truth, but couldn't deny the mixed feelings that swept through him. These three were in much the same straits as he had been. Sephiroth knew that they were the enemy, but he couldn't deny that he didn't see them as such. They were his _brothers_, for lack of a better word. And perhaps they were just like him, ensnared by Jenova and unable to break free.

If anyone was going to end this, it had to be him. They deserved as much.

"You're thinking of going after them," Tseng suddenly stated quietly. "And you're going to do it alone."

Green eyes glanced askance, feeling a sudden anger with his lover, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly where it had emerged from. "Did you read that from my mind?"

"I wouldn't," Tseng retorted sharply, hurt flickering in his gaze. "You know that. It's not that hard to guess, Sephiroth. You always try to do everything alone."

It was the only way he could be sure no one else would be hurt, but Sephiroth wasn't going to say that aloud. If he could do this himself, then he wouldn't worry about risking anyone else. Not Zack. Not Tseng. Not Denzel. No one. He had to protect them with his own hands. Because he was the one with the worthless existence, not they. And if he fell protecting them, perhaps that would absolve him.

"It's better that way," Sephiroth replied sharply, rubbing his hand gently over Denzel's head, the kid one who believed whole-heartedly in him. Without any reason at all.

Kids were always like that. Believing and hoping and wanting. So innocent and pure, thinking that someone will be there to save them. Until no one ever came and they learn that the only one that could depend on, was themselves.

Sephiroth swallowed thickly, memories cropping up that he'd rather not. There was something stirring inside of him, he could feel it. The Geostigma was a pulsing, aching presence on his back. It was spreading, down into his lower back, across his arm until it reached his wrist. He didn't want to glance down, because he knew that if he did, the purple-black would be peeking out from the sleeve of his clothing.

"You can't do this on your own," Tseng argued, cutting through Sephiroth's momentary dive inwards. "Let us help you."

Sephiroth shook his head. "This is something I have to do, Tseng."

The other man firmed his lips, looking as if he planned on arguing further, but the sound of a phone ringing cut through the tension. Silver eyes stared at Sephiroth a moment longer before Tseng pulled out his phone and answered it crisply, his look declaring that the conversation wasn't over.

Sephiroth, however, considered it done. As Tseng turned away to talk to someone, Sephiroth really didn't care who, he lowered himself until he was eyelevel with Denzel. The boy's eyes were red from crying, and he looked scared. A part of Sephiroth knew that he should stay here with Denzel, that he'd left the boy alone long enough.

His rational side, however, reminded him that those remnants, those whatever-they-were, had plans that would likely result in Gaia's destruction. He had to stop them, to save them, to do something. And if it meant leaving Denzel behind again, he would have to do it. Besides, it was probably better for the kid this way anyways. Sephiroth had promised himself that he could cure Denzel, and maybe this was the way to do it. Either way, he had to try. He couldn't let them run free.

He looked into red-rimmed brown eyes, and Sephiroth couldn't help but feel guilty. He squeezed Denzel's shoulders. "Denzel," he began, and halted, unsure of how to word it so that a child could understand. "I have to leave again. The battle isn't over yet."

"I don't want you to," the boy returned, rubbing furiously at the eyes with the back of his hand. He was trying to be strong, that was obvious. But he was still a child. Still pure. And Sephiroth wanted to keep him that way.

"I know," he replied kindly, and worked his jaw for a moment, wishing he knew the right words to say. "But I have to do this to protect everyone."

"Are you coming back?"

Such a simple question, it was. And Sephiroth knew that he couldn't answer it honestly. Because he didn't know. In all likelihood, he would die. If not at their hands, then by the Geostigma. If he fell, he planned on taking them with him. And likely, if he didn't, the Geostigma would consume soon after. He could feel it, eating away at him, taking away the last of his existence. No one else had survived an infection as advanced as his. It was only a matter of time at this point.

Sephiroth sighed. "I'm going to try," he said, unwilling to make a promise he couldn't keep. Especially to a child. "I will do my very best."

Those brown eyes looked at him, lower lip wobbling, before Denzel suddenly threw himself at Sephiroth, wrapping his arms around the former General's neck. He squeezed tightly, and Sephiroth dimly felt his small body shaking. A wave of guilt crashed over him, but Sephiroth dampened it, and returned the embrace.

"You'd better," Denzel sniffled, his hold almost suffocating.

Sephiroth swallowed thickly, and allowed the embrace for a few moments longer before he gently extracted himself from Denzel's head. He rose to his feet, clapping the boy strongly on the shoulder before turning away, heading for Odin. He glanced once at Tseng, the former Turk still locked in his conversation and looking quite perturbed.

"Stay close to Tseng," Sephiroth told Denzel as he settled into Odin's seat, situating everything around him. "He'll watch over you."

Denzel nodded, though he looked quite miserable, and obediently moved back towards Tseng. Guilt again attacked the former General, but he just added it to the pile that already squirmed inside of him. He'd made his choice after all. Reaching for the ignition, Sephiroth started Odin up with a loud, trembling roar, certain to grab Tseng's attention.

Indeed, Tseng whipped around, surprise etched into his features. "Sephiroth!" he shouted, moving as if to stop him.

Sephiroth just looked at him, volumes written in that simple glance, before he pushed back on the throttle and rumbled away. He would have to steer through mounds of debris, and somehow find the brothers, but Sephiroth had a feeling he wouldn't have to look very hard. Jenova was already calling to him, her dark presence like clutching claws in his brain. He wouldn't need to look, she would lead him there.

It was time he put an end to this, once and for all.

Left behind, Tseng cursed under his breath, squeezing his cell phone tightly in his grip. "That idiot," he muttered angrily, unsure who he was more furious at. Sephiroth, or himself for being unable to stop the fool. "He's going to get himself killed."

Hands clutched at his side, Denzel looking up at him worriedly. "Sephy's strong," Denzel assured him, though it sounded more like he were trying to convince himself. "He'll be back. He said he would try."

"Denzel..." Tseng truly didn't know what to say, because he couldn't quite explain the worried feeling inside of him.

What he had last sensed from Sephiroth had been nothing but darkness, an unending pit of it. The type that one couldn't pierce with even the brightest of lights. And Tseng wished that he could go after Sephiroth, but at the moment, he couldn't do much of anything.

"Tseng!"

He started when he realized the sound of his name was coming from his phone, which he had abandoned. Sheepishly, he brought it back to his ear. "What's going on, Tseng?"

He sighed. "It's Sephiroth," the second-in-command answered, rubbing his fingers over his forehead. "He's gone after the brothers."

"Dammit," Archer cursed. "He's going to get himself killed." When Tseng could only greet him with silence, Archer abruptly backtracked. "I mean, he's Sephiroth. He'll be fine. In the meantime, we have other things to worry about."

"I know. Have you seen Marlene?"

Archer's sigh echoed harshly through the receiver, momentarily blending with static. "Briefly. The last time I saw her, she was with Elena. And then I got thrown into the side of a building and things got a bit hazy. Especially when Yazoo tossed a fireball at me."

"And Zack?"

"Again, I don't know. Everything's crazy here. Ah, wait. Hold on."

Tseng stood by patiently as Archer disappeared from the call, likely checking the other line. He shifted his attention elsewhere, glancing around him. He was surrounded by destruction and the smell of ash and flame. The citizens had all wisely vanished, but other than Denzel clinging to him, he was alone.

He had thought he'd heard something. Like footsteps over rubble, or something similar. With Archer still gone, he focused on his surroundings.

"Tseng?"

Blinking, he returned his attentions to the phone. "Yes?"

"That was Reeve. He's trying to get everyone back to the WRO headquarters. How far are you?"

Silver eyes glanced around, trying to gage his position. He was to the side of the main square, as near as he could tell. If he kept to the perimeter, he could probably be at the headquarters in twenty minutes or less. Provided he didn't encounter anything dangerous on the way, such as a Shadow Beast that might still be lurking.

He set his hand on Denzel's head, hoping to comfort the boy. "Not that far. I can be there quickly. Is the President well?"

Archer chuckled, though it was really without humor. "He's fine, second-in-command. A certain bubbly demi-deity made an appearance."

A sense of relief swept through Tseng. That was, at least, one less person he had to worry about. "Understood. Denzel and I will meet you there in under a half hour."

With that, Tseng ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Denzel recognized the motions and looked up at him, fingers clutched onto Tseng's suit jacket, despite its dirtied appearance. "Did they find Marlene?"

"Not yet," Tseng answered gently, hating himself for having lost sight of the little girl. She had been his responsibility.

"Marlene's missing?"

The voice, suddenly behind him, startled Tseng and he whirled around, immediately thrusting Denzel protectively behind his back. His other hand was already reaching for his blade, fingers curled around the hilt. Prepared to draw in an instant.

He was therefore surprised when two familiar forms dropped down in front of him, having leapt from the remains of a building. They landed with catlike grace, barely making a noise despite the bits and pieces of rubble beneath their feet.

"A little jumpy, cousin?" Yuffie commented, a big grin on her face as she rose from her crouch, never minding the streak of dirt that covered one cheek.

Tseng sucked in a breath, trying to calm the racing in his heart. "A little," he admitted, gaze flickering between the couple. "How did you guys find me?"

"Pure chance, actually. Heard your phone as we were passing by," the ninja responded, hefting her shuriken onto one shoulder, a few of the points spattered with drying blood.

Beside her, Nanaki inclined his head in agreement, his face much more solemn than Yuffie's. " You mentioned something about Marlene?"

Guilt colored Tseng's impression, making him seem paler. "Yes. She slipped away from me when we landed and went to search for Denzel. I looked for her, but found him first."

"She's still out there?" Yuffie declared, her eyes wide with shock.

"Archer said he saw her with Elena, so in likelihood, she's fine. But with all the destruction, it's hard to get a signal on any phone."

As if on cue, Tseng's phone chose that moment to chirrup loudly once more, demanding his attention. He dropped his hand from Yoshiyuki and dug in his pocket for the device, answering it with a clipped tone. Meanwhile, Yuffie tried to encourage Denzel with a candy bar, produced from one of her many and deep pockets. Tseng made a careful note to watch his materia, though he didn't have any that were that valuable.

"Tseng, please tell me you've seen Elena."

And that frantic voice was most definitely Zack, diving into conversation before he could so much as actually answer the phone. "Zack--"

The former SOLDIER continued without so much as waiting for an answer, breathing heavily into the phone. "Her phone is sending me straight to voicemail, and I haven't seen her since that lummox knocked me over the head."

"I haven't seen her," Tseng answered carefully, recognizing the concern in Zack's voice. It was his lover, after all, that was missing. "But that doesn't mean something's happened."

Zack cursed into the phone. "Fine. I'll keep trying." And before Tseng could say anything else, the call was cut off, leaving him listening to static. Whether Zack had ended the call or there was a disruption in the service, Tseng wasn't sure.

Sighing, he shoved his phone back into his pocket, meeting Nanaki and Yuffie's concerned gazes. "Elena's missing, too," he admitted, feeling stretched very thin all the sudden. Too much was happening, and he couldn't seem to pin any of it under control.

Sephiroth had vanished after the brothers. Marlene had slipped out of his sight and now she couldn't be found. Elena was missing without a word. Junon was collapsing around them, some buildings finally giving up their bids to remain standing. It seemed utter madness. But it at least it was a lot better than what happened during the Chaos War.

"We'll look for them," Nanaki stated, tail swishing anxiously behind them. "We can find both of them a lot easier than any of you." He tapped his nose demonstratively as Yuffie rose to her feet, ruffling Denzel's hair affectionately.

"Even me," she added cheerily. "Don't worry. We'll find Marlene and Elena. I'd hate to see Barret blow a gasket. You just get Denzel somewhere safe."

Taking the boy's hand in his, the other occupied with gripping a candy bar that he hadn't bothered biting into, Tseng nodded. "Fine. You two be careful."

"We're the last you need to worry about," Nanaki assured him, exchanging glances with his lover. "Ready?"

She inclined her head, and then, before Tseng's very eyes, he watched the both of them begin to change. It happened quickly, but it was still a strange sight to behold. Their matching amulets flashed visibly. And soon, there were two lion-wolves standing before him – one a brilliant red-orange, the other a softer dark brown.

"Don't be so shocked," the brownish Iyatokan declared in Yuffie's voice. It was accompanied by a saucy wink before she and Nanaki both bounded off into the midst of the city, lighted tails flickering brightly.

Tseng watched them for a moment more before he smiled down at Denzel, hoping that it was reassuring and it didn't betray his worry. "Shall we meet with the others then?"

Denzel nodded, brown hair falling haphazardly into his face, where tears and dust already stained his cheeks. "Sephy's going to come back."

"Yes, I know," Tseng replied, and squeezed Denzel's hand.

He wished he could share that child-like belief. He wished that he held the same optimism, and he wished that he could erase the feeling of that dark presence from the back of his mind.

If only it were that simple.

* * *

The headache that had been threatening him earlier wished to return full force. Reeve was holding it back with medicine and constant rubbing of his temples, but he had the feeling it was going to win in the end. He had too much weighing him down at the moment, too much to be concerned about. And he really, really wanted to throw his cell phone under a leaning building, only to watch it smash beneath falling rock. He hated the damn thing.

He curled a finger in his collar and tugged his tie loose, before lowering himself down to one of the pieces of rubble that now covered the streets of his town. Was he always going to be forced to watch the things he had built come crashing down? It seemed so unfair. You'd think he would have learned by now.

"What're you thinking about?"

Reeve startled, looking up at Archer who sat across from him, perched on his own rock and looking into the distance. He sighed, clasping his hands in front of him. "For an architect, I spend most of my time watching my creations fall."

A bitter smile curled at Archer's lips. "I know the feeling," he replied, his tone nearly unidentifiable. He looked a little worse for wear, covered in soot and bruises, a closing wound on his forehead darkened with dried blood.

"I suppose you're thinking about Kadaj?"

"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Archer returned instead, working his jaw visibly before forcing his gaze to Reeve. His amethyst eyes were filled with sadness, but not a hint of regret. "For actually wanting to save him?"

He watched Archer, remembered how his friend had been acting, and Reeve had to admit, that though he did think Archer was a fool, he didn't think he was wrong either. "We all do stupid things when the heart is involved," he finally answered.

Archer swallowed thickly and glanced away, balancing his head on his palm and digging fingers through his hair. "I don't know what to do. Sephiroth's going to stop him. They're going to kill him. I don't..." He broke off, tone frustrated. "It's not fair, Reeve. I finally find it again, that spark of happiness, and life rips it away from me."

"Archer--"

"Am I still being punished? Is that it?" he demanded, but Reeve didn't think the engineer was talking to him any longer. "I hurt Cid so in turn, I have to suffer?"

Reeve wished that his usual eloquence hadn't chose that moment to fail him. All he could do was watch his dear friend suffer, wishing he had the means to fix it. But life had never been kind to any of them, and neither had fate. From the moment ShinRa and its legacy touched poisonous fingers to Gaia, everything had been fucked up. There was no nicer way to describe it.

Archer sucked in a huge, shuddering breath, but his face was hidden behind the shield of his arms. And Reeve, who couldn't find anything to say, pretended not to notice. He felt a bit like breaking down himself, and could only thank deities he didn't believe in that he'd gotten his sister and his daughter out of Junon before the danger struck. In his heart, he worried for Reno, but there was nothing to be done.

"This is hardly the air of celebration." Zack's voice suddenly poured into the small clearing in front of the WRO headquarters as rocks skittered and he appeared above a pile of broken debris.

"Thanks for joining us," Reeve replied dryly, and gestured around him. "Take a piece of wall over there. It's the best you'll get."

Crystalline eyes flickered to Archer, but in the interest of privacy, Zack left the engineer alone. It was with heavy steps that he moved into the clearing and plopped down onto a piece of rock, his sword scraping the ground behind him. His clothes were ripped and torn in several places, and he favored one knee. There was a nice bruise developing along his chin, and his hair was caked with dirt. Like Archer, he looked worse for wear, but he still held his life.

"I can't find Elena," Zack admitted, pulling his sword from its sheath and laying it across his knees.

Reeve felt a harsh stab behind his eyes but ignored it. "I know. We can't find a lot of things."

Rocks skittering over the ground announced the arrival of the last of their group, Tseng making an appearance behind a piece of twisted metal and glass, scorched by flame. He carried Denzel on his back, sweat dotting his forehead and hair falling free from the loose tie he had held it back with.

He paused as he caught sight of them, eyes flickering over what few there were. "This is all?" Tseng asked in his surprise.

The President forced himself to rise to his feet, despite the throb it produced in his skull. "Vincent, Reno, and Cid went after the brothers. So yes, this is all."

Tseng crouched, letting Denzel slide down from his back and helped him over to a piece of debris, the boy limping slightly. "No word from Elena?"

"None."

"Nanaki and Yuffie are looking for them," Tseng continued, kneeling to examine Denzel's knee. It was obviously scraped, a small bit of blood peeking through the fabric of his torn jeans. "Anyone have a Cure?"

To this, Archer finally stirred, pulling the small, green materia from his armlet and tossing it to Tseng, who caught it easily. "Keep it," Archer replied, his voice hollow. His face was clear of tears, though his eyes were red-rimmed. He didn't appear altogether.

Zack's gaze shifted to Reeve. "Well, Mr. President, what now?"

"Isn't Sephiroth our leader?" Reeve replied, but it was only a half-hearted joke.

He tugged against at his tie, feeling as if it constricted him. Really, he was too old and too tired for this. When was the Planet going to take his age in consideration when it decided to throw large monsters and Jenova remnants at him?

"We need to find Elena and Marlene. And catch up with Sephiroth. To do that, we'll need transportation." His eyes flickered to Archer – desperate for something to occupy himself – and Zack – overcome with worry. "Will you two get a helicopter ready? With all this destruction, it'll be easy to get one to this square."

The former SOLDIER inclined his head. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Reeve." He rose to his feet, dusting off his pants though it did nothing for the rest of the filth caking his clothing. "What're you going to do?"

"Tseng and I will stay here with Denzel. We'll worry about getting him to safety when you two get back."

Archer looked as if he were going to argue, before shaking his head and keeping silent. He stood and moved down next to Zack without a word, lifting his hands to retie his hair out of his face.

"Gotcha," Zack responded, but it was with feigned assurance. He jerked his head towards Archer, before the two of them headed towards the WRO headquarters. Most likely to use the underground passages to the storage dock.

Reeve, in the meantime, was beginning to crave some aspirin. And he worried that he was garnering an addiction to the painkillers. Because at the rate he'd been sucking them down lately, they were hardly working.

"Reeve."

He flicked his gaze to Tseng, whose normally stoic expression had been taken over by something more stormy. His hands were on Denzel's shoulders, but they twitched, as though barely keeping from clenching tightly.

"Please look after Denzel."

Honestly, one of these days, Reeve truly felt as if he were going to combust. Because his friends were going to be the death of him, what with their incessant need to do everything on their own. Honestly, why did they even bother asking him their opinion? Did they think he didn't worry about his own lover, going off against three Sephiroth-clones? With only an ex-Turk and a nicotine-addicted pilot at his back?

"And where do you think you're going?" Reeve demanded, at the end of his patience. He gave a final tug to his tie, and then dropped the formal piece of attire to the ground. Let it join the rest of the debris of yet another mockery of his attempt to rebuild things.

Tseng set his jaw stubbornly. "After Sephiroth."

He threw his hands up in the air. "Right, that makes perfect sense," Reeve declared, resisting the urge to smack his own forehead in exasperation. "And how are you planning to catch up to them? On foot?"

"Somehow."

Reeve sucked in several harsh breaths, reminding himself that naturally, he was a calm person. "Tseng, you're not this foolish. So stop thinking you are. You know good and well that there's not anything you can do this very second."

Anger flashed into those perfectly composed features, along with a hefty dose of guilt. "I didn't stop him when he left."

"He's Sephiroth. I doubt you could have."

Tseng didn't answer, just looked away, focusing on something else, likely anything else than the confusing torrent of emotions running through him. Really, between he and Sephiroth, Reeve didn't know how they survived as a couple. They could barely communicate, didn't understand their own emotions much less anyone else's, and were highly dependable on others.

But then, maybe that was why they were so important to each other. Both could understand that much, at least, even if they comprehended nothing else.

Reeve sighed, raking a hand over his hair and messing up the carefully ordered strands, if there were any left still _in _order. "At least wait until they bring the helicopter. Then you'll have a much better chance at going after him."

Silver eyes regarded him with surprise, his curiosity compelling. "You're not going to stop me?"

He shook his head. "If anyone can reach him now, it's you. That's the truth." And despite his irritation, Reeve felt a half-smile flit into his lips. "Sephiroth's one of us now, as strange as that sounds. And we don't abandon family."

* * *

a/n: Ah, so much happening! It's hard to keep track of it all. So you should see some similarities between the movie and this, but not many. I changed a lot. lol. I hope you enjoyed. And thanks to everyone for sticking with me! Answers abound in the next chapter!


	20. Interlude 6: Bedshaped

a/n: Update time again! I do hope you enjoy. This is another one of those interludes, so it's placement in the entire timeline is scattered.

**Shattered Children: Interlude Six**

**Bedshaped**

It was warm, a pleasant smell wafting throughout the entire kitchen. Shera reveled in it, sitting back in her chair with a happy sigh as she awaited the fruits of her husband's labor. He had promised to make her favorite dinner after all. And all she had to do was take care of Dominic until it was ready. Simple as refurbishing a mako converter, really.

In her lap, Dominic was gurgling and looking about him with interest. Smiling at her son, Shera tickled at his belly and was rewarded with a wriggle and a small laugh. Big brown eyes blinked up at her adoringly, his head covered with a fair share of brown fuzz, tightly kinked against his skull.

She ran her fingers gently over the growth, remarking that they would have to start trimming it soon otherwise it would make his head hurt. She had wondered how the mixing of their bloods would appear. The curled hair was only the beginning. His skin was a lovely brown shade, and Shera knew that all mother's thought so of their children, but she was certain her son was beautiful.

The clatter of dishes and silverware was a welcome background noise, and Shera couldn't help the warmth of happiness that curled in her stomach. The Chaos War was over, both of her loved ones emerging unscathed. What more could she ask for? And Rude...

Her eyes traveled to her husband, catching the broad strength of his back as he cooked over the stove with efficient motions. His bald head glinted in the overhead light and Shera had to stifle a giggle, lest he turn around and demand an explanation. While it was amusing to tease Rude, she didn't want to at the moment. She was too busy soaking up the moment.

"And what is that look for?"

Shera blinked, catching her husband's glance as he peered over his shoulder, lacking the distinctive sunglasses. "What look?" she asked innocently, joggling Dominic on her lap.

He was an energetic child who always wanted to be in motion. A small finger poked at her, catching her cheek, as Dominic giggled again. Shera turned and pretended to catch the finger with her mouth, causing her son to smile again. They played this game often, mischievous child that he was.

"The look that says you're probably plotting something devious," Rude answered with bemusement, opening the cupboards above him and beginning to pull down plates and other necessary items.

"Now why would I do something like that?" Shera shot back with equal amusement, the scent of their dinner floating to her nose.

She relished in the flavors that would soon be hers, and ignored the strange tugging in her gut. It was probably just hunger that was making her nauseous. That did happen from time to time.

Rude smiled at her as he slid the plates onto the table, setting out pan holders for the warmer dishes. "Because you wouldn't be you if you didn't," he retorted, looking unbelievably handsome as he set dishes in front of her.

Making a non-committal sound in her throat, her eyes fell to the food set before her. Baked salmon coated in lemon, wild rice and steamed vegetables. Her absolutely favorite meal. Yet, her stomach did another uncomfortable flip-flop. It churned rather nauseatingly and Shera swallowed thickly.

It looked absolutely delicious. And if she looked at it for another minute longer she was going to vomit. No... no, actually she was going to vomit. Practically hurtling to her feet, she thrust Dominic in his father's direction, and was relieved when Rude took him immediately. The expression on his face was full of curiosity.

She didn't bear that any mind, however, and made straight for the hallway and the first bathroom she came upon. Shera's stomach did a clenching, angry flip and she knew for certain, she wasn't going to be able to hold it in. She barely made it to the bathroom in time.

Left behind in the dining room, Rude could only blink after his wife's abrupt disappearance. She had been incredibly pale, he had noticed. Confused, he looked down at his son, who only gurgled up at him, smiling innocently. He had no clue either.

Tucking Dominic into the safety of one arm, Rude shook his head and continued to set out the rest of dinner, including pouring something for his wife to drink. "Your mother can be odd sometimes," he told his son, and received a poke to the side in response.

It seemed a rather advanced reaction for an infant of Dominic's age, but the doctor had assured him such behaviors were normal. Not for other children, of course, but considering the side effects of the mako enhancement, they were quite usual for Dominic. Just like little Midori, Dominic was going to be an extraordinary individual as he aged.

Rude couldn't be more proud, but he was more relieved that the mako testing hadn't turned out to be detrimental for his child. And he knew that Shera was relieved as well. She had hid her fears well, as strong as she was, but she had never been able to completely hide those types of feelings from him.

Minutes passed without his wife returning and concerned, Rude finally hitched Dominic onto his hip and decided to investigate. He walked down the hall, bypassing the door to the den and Dominic's bedroom before coming to the closed door of the bathroom. Light streaming from below was all the information he needed.

He lifted a hand and knocked gently on the door. "Shera? Is everything all right?"

There was a moment's silence before he heard the sound of the toilet flushing. The door cracked open and his wife stood in the doorway, a strange half-smile on her face. She still looked pale, but better than before.

"It depends on what you mean by all right," she responded, sounding a little exhausted.

He eyed her carefully. "Are you sick?"

She shook her head, and let a small laugh escape her. "Not quite." Shera reached for her son, whom Rude obediently handed over, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "But this feeling is probably going to stick around for the next... oh, I'd say eight and a half months."

Rude blinked in confusion. "Months? What kind of..." he trailed off when he caught the look in her eyes, and the amusement glinting there. His jaw nearly dropped. "...Really? You're pregnant?"

Laughing, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. "The last time I felt like this we learned about Dominic. I don't think I'm wrong, but to be sure, I should probably go to the doctor."

Completely awed, Rude couldn't help but lay a hand on her flat belly, knowing that it would soon swell with another life. _His_ child. A surge of affection rushed through Rude and wrapped his arms around his wife and son, drawing them into a strong hug. His lips found Shera's and he kissed her deeply, putting all of his joy behind the kiss.

A squirm and muffled whine informed him of his son's discomfort, and he quickly drew away. Dominic looked up at him in annoyance, angrily pushing a fist at his father for trying to squish him. Rude smiled goofily back at his son, happy beyond words.

"I take it you're pleased," Shera responded with amusement, quite liking the look of happy fluster on her husband's expression.

"So pleased I might have to make your favorite dessert after all," he returned easily, already plotting names in the back of his mind.

Daughter or son, it didn't matter to him. For a man who never expected to have family like this, but to spend the rest of his life in espionage and murder, he couldn't be more ecstatic.

Shera chuckled, and urged him down the hall ahead of her. "While you're at it, make a different dinner. I don't think I'll be eating salmon anytime soon."

"Whatever you want dearest," Rude replied, practically ecstatic. "I am but your faithful servant."

The woman laughed, rocking Dominic in her arms. Though she didn't look forward to the discomfort of the next eight and a half months, the joy in Rude's expression and the excitement in her own made it well worth it. And looking at her child, soon to have a sibling, Shera couldn't claim that she didn't want another.

She never would have thought that she could be this happy, and though they had gone through much to get here, she wouldn't trade it for the world.

Not a single moment of it.

* * *

"Sephy!"

The former general oomphed as he was suddenly given an armful of laughing, smiling child, Denzel having thrown himself at his favorite person. Normally subdued, the only time Denzel truly seemed to act his age was whenever he saw Sephiroth. He was baffled as to why, uncertain why the boy would put so much faith in him.

He patted the brown hair with one hand as Denzel wrapped his arms around Sephiroth, squeezing him tightly. "Hello, Denzel."

Big eyes looked up at him, literally dancing with happiness. "I haven't seen you in forever," the child replied with typical child-like hyperbole. "Where have you been?"

Sephiroth felt something stab in his gut but he chased it down. "I was on business for Reeve helping the city of Kalm. But I brought you something."

If it was possible for Denzel's eyes to get any brighter, they would have. "Really? What is it?" he asked eagerly, hands clutching onto Sephiroth's shirt.

Despite himself, Sephiroth chuckled, digging around in his pocket for the item he had brought the boy. It was still wrapped in newspaper, the best thing he could find to conceal it and protect his clothes from the dirt that still clung to the outside of it. The paper crinkled loudly as he withdrew the item, about the size of his fists pressed together, and held it out. Brown eyes widened impossibly large as he released his latching hold on Sephiroth and took the wrapped item, grunting with the feel of the weight as it fell into his small hands.

"Open it," Sephiroth urged quietly, well aware of the appraising jade eyes that were watching from the open doorway. Aeris rocked Midori in her arms, cooing softly to the infant as she observed the two of them.

Gratitude and excitement shone in the boy's eyes as he carefully peeled back the wrapper, taking more care in this than Aeris had ever seen before. Layers of newspaper, several days old, eventually revealed what appeared to be nothing more than a brown rock, some dirt still encrusted in the cracks. Confusion wrinkled the boy's forehead.

Placing his hand on the boy's hair and tousling it gently, Sephiroth lowered himself to a kneeling position. One hand tapped the rock. "It's a geode," he explained. "It looks ugly on the outside, but when we cut it open, you'll see something beautiful."

"What does it look like?" Denzel asked, cradling the rock even more lovingly now. He held it close to his chest, as though fearing dropping it would ruin it completely.

Sephiroth felt his back twinge, a flash of pain attacking him, but he held back on his wince for Denzel's sake. "We won't know until we open it."

The boy glanced up at him eagerly. "Can we do it now?"

"Not in the house," Aeris commented warningly, sounding very much like a mother as she flashed the two males a warm smile. "Go out back. There's plenty of room for mess out there."

Denzel nodded, grabbing Sephiroth's hand and trying to urge him along, though with a lot less enthusiasm than Marlene would have chosen, thank goodness. Sephiroth rose to his feet, the sheath of his sword clanking with the motion. He caught Aeris' amused look before he was following the young boy from the room, through the kitchen and out the back door, which creaked as it slammed shut.

He quickly found himself facing a wide open field, a few trees dotting the landscape but not much else. He supposed it paid to have a house on the edge of the city rather than in the direct center of it. No sooner had they patted a few steps into the green grass than Denzel turned and pushed his geode in Sephiroth's direction, something unerringly like hero worship glinting in his eyes.

"How are you going to open it?"

Carefully taking the gift back momentarily, Sephiroth pulled off a glove and ran his fingers over the rocky outer layer. Some of the dirt flaked off under his touch.

"Normally, one would use expensive and careful equipment," he explained, shifting the rock to his free hand and tossing it up and down as he gauged the weight. "But we don't have that luxury. So this is going to be a bit flashy. Step back, Denzel."

If Zack could see him now, he would have laughed himself into an early grave. This type of display was more his best friend's forte, but Sephiroth honestly couldn't think of a better option other than seeking out a hammer and chisel. Both of which would take time he didn't think he had to spend in Rocket Town.

Denzel immediately obeyed, scurrying to stand behind Sephiroth, though he peeked around the former General's leather-clad form. Carefully, Sephiroth drew his sword – a temporary blade until he found something worthy of his ability – and drew a low-powered flame into it. Just enough to temper the blade with heat.

Flipping the geode a few more times in his hand, he gave it one final throw, tossing it up into the air. Denzel gasped as he watched it fly up, and then fall back towards the ground, turning end over end. Sephiroth gauged the distance carefully, and then his blade whistled through the open air, slicing cleanly through the rock. He barely even felt it disturb the sword as the two pieces fell to the ground, each section faintly smoking.

Denzel's eyes had widened in awe, and he rushed forward to grab the two halves as Sephiroth laid his blade aside. It would need to cool.

"Wait," he commanded, crossing the field and crouching at Denzel's side. "Don't touch them just yet. They are still hot."

Nodding yieldingly, Denzel knelt next to the two pieces, his hands on his knees. "It's pretty," he commented, pointing to the splash of colors hidden within the brown and nondescript rock.

"Indeed," Sephiroth agreed, tipping his head to the side as he considered the array of color and shape within the stone. "You are lucky. This is a very rare one. It's called a Thunderegg(1)." He reached forward, holding his hand over the geode and was relieved to find that no heat emanated from it. A careful touch proved that they were safe to handle.

"Why?" Denzel asked, accepting the piece that his adoptive father offered him. He carefully ran the pad of his fingers over the smooth crystal now revealed, tracing the jagged path of chalcedony.

Settling back into a seated position, and balancing his elbows on his knees, Sephiroth dug his spotty memory and geologic lessons that man had given him. "Most geodes have spikes of crystals in them. They aren't filled all the way. This one is."

Denzel didn't reply, seemingly captivated by the stone in his hands. Sephiroth had picked it up in the mines between Fort Condor and the Chocobo Ranch, and his first instinct had been that Denzel would probably like it. He was glad that he had decided to keep it.

The boy's thumb passed over green jasper embedded within a translucent quartz matrix. "Where do you go?" he asked out of the blue, keeping his gaze focused on the stone as though he were afraid to look up at the adult. "When you're not here. Where are you?"

Twisting his jaw, Sephiroth fought back a sigh, hating the echo of loneliness in Denzel's voice. "Here and there," he evaded, knowing he couldn't answer truthfully. Not that there was a complete truth. "I have to travel a lot for my job."

"Aeris said that you're helping to protect everyone by killing the monsters," Denzel replied, and finally lifted his eyes, meeting Sephiroth's. "She said that I have to learn patience and just wait for you to come back. Because you will if I wait long enough."

The former General swallowed thickly, silence grabbing his tongue as a faint breeze stirred. It was fresh, carrying the scent of summer grass, and tossing his hair into his face. It didn't help him find the words that he needed to say, whatever they were.

A sound suddenly filled the air, a low buzzing noise that came from Sephiroth's pocket. He recognized the vibration immediately and dove a hand into his pocket, pulling out the phone. A number flashed on the display, but it was one he could easily ignore. Zack would understand. It wasn't as if he often answered his phone anyways.

Denzel pursed his lips, eyes squinting against the brightness of the sun. "I don't want to have patience. I want you to visit more."

"It's not that simple," Sephiroth replied, hating that he was letting down the one person who trusted him unconditionally. Who cared for him without good reason.

True he held close companions, such as Zack, but Denzel was still pure. Still good. He'd yet to be tainted by ShinRa and life, and Sephiroth hated to ruin that. Yet, he also clung to the boy's uninhibited love, because it represented something he had never experienced for himself. Oh, for the innocence of a child. Sephiroth wished he had known it for once in his life.

The boy sighed, his shoulders slumping glumly. "I know. People are depending on you."

If that was the explanation Aeris had given him, then Sephiroth was content to let Denzel continue believing it. There was no use in explaining the truth, or the details. The boy didn't need to know.

His back twinged again and Sephiroth winced, feeling the crippling weakness spreading through his arm like a wildfire. The sores were increasing in size, sapping at his strength and seeping across his back. It wouldn't be long before people started to notice, most notably Tseng. He suspected that his excuse of a monster attack was wearing pretty damn thin.

"I will try to visit more often," Sephiroth stated, knowing that he couldn't promise. He didn't dare make a vow he couldn't keep.

The smile that brightened Denzel's expression was nearly blinding at what was a very vague hope. And Sephiroth couldn't help but feel guilty. He tried to focus on something else, and noticed the glint of silver around Denzel's neck. He blinked. Was that what he thought it was?

Brow furrowed, the former General gestured towards the boy's necklace. "You still have those?" he questioned, having almost completely forgotten about them himself.

Denzel's free hand lifted, curling fingers around the tags present beneath his shirt. "Of course," he stated proudly. "I never take them off. And I practice every day, too."

"Practice what?"

"To be strong just like you," Denzel replied fiercely, his eyes burning with a determination that Sephiroth had never seen in a child so young. Though they reflected a similar pair of bright blue eyes from so many years ago. "So I can protect everyone. Even you."

Sephiroth swallowed thickly at the heartfelt words, feeling a warmth spreading through his chest. He reached out, brushing his hands over Denzel's hair affectionately, at a complete loss for words.

"I'm sure you will be," he replied, the only thing he could think to say. To encourage him, because he couldn't dash a young boy's hopes like that.

He left out comments about how strength was more than power, and that sometimes, being the strongest wasn't all that great either. He avoided all mentioning of the hell that was warfare and how much it could ruin everything. He just wanted the boy to dream for a little while, because Sephiroth had never had that luxury and he'd be damned if he took it from someone else. Especially someone he considered family.

"In fact, I know..." But his words trailed off as he noticed something, the shadow of bluish-green on the boy's forehead. Sephiroth frowned, something inside of him growing cold. "Did you fall and hurt yourself, Denzel?"

The boy shook his head, dropping his gaze back to his gift and holding it up to the light. He watched it play across the crystallized surface. "Nope."

Sephiroth's heart gave a careful stutter, his throat closing up at the sight that was all too familiar to him, but only recent to the rest of the world. The unexplained sickness that had yet to be named. Sephiroth had considered it punishment, but what would it serve to penalize an innocent child.

"Sephiroth?"

He looked over his shoulder, finding Aeris standing in the doorway, Midori on one hip and the cordless phone in her other hand. "Reeve called. He says he has something he needs you to take care of."

That man had the worst timing. Sephiroth internally groaned, momentarily shifting his attention to Denzel, who looked up at him worriedly. "Are you leaving again?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I promise. Can you stay here for a minute?"

The boy nodded, and Sephiroth quickly rose to his feet, striding back towards where Aeris was waiting. He took the phone from her hand, but only lifted it to his ear long enough to tell Reeve he would call him back and then hang up. Aeris' brow lifted at his abrupt ending to the call, since Sephiroth was usually so polite. It had been ingrained within him after all.

"Has Denzel fallen at all recently? Hit his head on the counter? _Anything_?" Sephiroth demanded, his words coming out a bit more harshly than he intended. And perhaps a bit too forceful as Aeris was taken aback by the sheer demand.

She blinked, her features coloring. "Not that I can think of. I mean, my eyes aren't on him at every moment and he's so quiet." Aeris sighed, shifting Midori in her arms, the child making a sound of discontent for the movement. "You're talking about the bruise on his forehead, aren't you?"

"It's not a bruise," Sephiroth muttered, his heart sinking. "How I wish it were." He scraped a hand over his face, feeling every inch of helpless.

"Sephiroth, what's going on," Aeris questioned as the phone began to ring, no doubt the President worried about the abrupt ending to the previous call.

Sephiroth held it up for the woman to take. "Ask Reeve, I'm sure he can explain it better." The worry in her eyes was regrettable, but she had to know the truth. He wanted her to be prepared in case...

In case...

No, Sephiroth wasn't going to think about that for the moment. He didn't even want to consider that outcome. Reeve would find something. The scientists at WRO. Surely someone would find something. He wasn't going to just let Denzel die.

Aeris took the phone without a word, and Sephiroth left her to her conversation, determined to return to Denzel's side. He couldn't heal him dammit, he couldn't even help to find the cure. He couldn't protect the boy and he was pretty much useless as everything, especially a human being. But having him around seemed to make Denzel happy. And though Sephiroth didn't understand it, the least he could do was be a presence.

* * *

_The moment she pressed her palm to the clean, polished wood and pushed it open, the low, sensuous strains of a saxophone floated to her ears. It thrummed into her veins, a smoky sound that made her heart stir. Reis smiled, stepping into the coffeehouse and instantly greeted with the wonderful smell of freshly ground coffee beans and something sweet baking in the kitchen. _

_She had never been to this business before, hadn't so much as heard of it. But judging from the packed tables and the crowd, it was quite popular. There was a low murmur of conversation, most people enjoying the jazz ensemble on the stage. It was dim, the only light that necessary for movement, keeping the entire establishment very private and contained. The walls were covered in artistic renderings of various tastes. _

_Blinking in surprise, Reis took several steps into the coffeehouse, scanning the seated crowd for a familiar face. She spotted Yazoo instantly, the silver hair a dead giveaway. He was sitting near the stage, his back to the door. Reis felt her heart give a flutter, one that was coming all too often lately, as she weaved her way through the crowd. _

_The last strains of the unfamiliar melody threaded through the coffeehouse before they slowly launched into a new song. This one, she could almost name, swearing that it was on the tip of her tongue. The sax started out slow and smoky, with a rising crescendo that twirled. It was beautiful. _

_Slipping around the table, Reis dropped her bag into an empty chair and slid into the one beside it, appearing right in front of Yazoo. "Been waiting long?" she asked, captivated for a moment by those pale green eyes. She was so envious of them. _

_He shook his head, tucking a lock of silver hair behind his ear. "Just arrived myself." Yazoo glanced around with a pointed look. "It was almost impossible to get a table." _

"_I can see," Reis replied, and settled into her seat, sinking comfortably into the soft cushions. "How did you find this place? I've never even heard of it. And I thought I'd been to all of the good coffeehouses in Junon." _

_He lifted a hand, gesturing vaguely. A small, almost sad smile decorated his lips. "I followed the music." _

_Reis looked at him for a moment, trying to decide if he were serious, before chuckling lightly. "Poetic of you." _

_He shrugged. "In all honesty, I heard that song you often play, and it drew me in. Much like your violin." _

"_Now that answer makes sense," the young doctor replied, and ended up having to fight the attack of a yawn. "Sorry." _

_Her fatigue was catching up to her. Not that she would have missed this meeting for the world. It had been almost a week since she had heard from Yazoo and Reis was beginning to worry. When she had received the phone call, she had switched shifts with someone to make sure she could meet with him. _

_Yazoo tipped his head to the side, curious gaze watching her. "Long day?" _

_Waving him off, Reis carefully shielded her mouth, in case another yawn snuck up on her. "Another emergency. But that's how it is with doctors. You learn to handle it." _

_Understanding filtered into Yazoo's expression, but before he could comment, one of the servers wandered up to their table, having noticed their lack of food or drink. Pulling a tablet out of her pocket, the young woman smiled warmly at the both of them. _

"_Welcome. What can I get for you this afternoon?" the server, whose name tag read Kazuya, asked politely. _

_It was nothing they weren't already skilled at ordering, having frequented many coffeehouses in their ever-increasing relationship. Yazoo didn't even pause as he placed his order. _

"_An Espresso Truffle. Tall, if you would please." _

_Reis couldn't help a small smile. Yazoo always ordered something with chocolate in it, and the more amped on Espresso, the better. "Vanilla Frappuccino for me. And make sure it is decaf." _

_Inclining her head, the server scribbled their order down and shoved the pad back into her pocket. "Alright. I'll be with you shortly. Please, enjoy the show." And with that she was gone, zooming around the establishment with the speed and efficiency of someone who was very skilled at her job. _

_Yazoo arched one brow after they left. "Switching to decaf?" _

"_For today anyways," Reis replied, breathing deeply of the wonderful odor of coffee. It was one of her favorite flavors. "I want to actually sleep tonight. Not be hyped up on caffeine." _

"_Logical as always." His gaze shifted away from her, not really focused on anything. And he sounded odd, at least to her. There was a tiredness to his voice not usually present, a wrinkle to his youthful face that betrayed his troubles. _

_Reis shifted forward in her seat, eying him worriedly. "Yazoo... is everything all right? Nothing's happened to your brothers has it?" _

_He shook his head, and then grew aggravated with the fall of hair into his face. He reached up and pulled the long strands back, a part of her lightened by the sight of the hair tie that he used. The same one she had given him. _

"_Loz and Kadaj are fine," he responded with a sigh, forcefully dragging his gaze back to her. "And I am sorry if my absence.... troubled you." _

"_I wouldn't call it trouble," Reis attempted to joke, but it fell flat with the awkward hesitation that lingered over their table. As well as the sobriety of the situation. "There must be something else then." _

_He winced, one hand rising to his forehead where he rubbed fingers across his brow. Bare fingers, she belated noticed, where he usually wore black leather gloves. His hands were so pale, just like the rest of him. But he had artist fingers, long and elegant, reflecting just how beautifully he played the piano. _

_His other hand lay flat against the tabletop, but he was flexing his knuckles, as though trying to keep from balling his fingers in his fist. "I wanted to thank you," he began softly, and Reis suddenly had a worrisome feeling. _

"_For what?" _

_Yazoo sighed faintly, as though he were fighting with something internally. "I have to leave," he suddenly stated, and straightened, dropping his hand from his head. "It's likely that we will never meet again." Pale eyes met hers, troubled and indecisive. Regretful. _

_The doctor was at a loss for words – truly a first for her as Reeve would have teased. It didn't sound like the simple act of someone who was moving away for something greater. There was a look in Yazoo's eyes, of something final and destructive. She swallowed thickly, searching for an appropriate response. _

"_What are you talking about? Are you in trouble?" _

_He laughed, but it was far from comical, leaning more towards bitter sarcasm. "Were it only that easy." _

"_I can probably help," Reis assured him, watching as he bit his lip, nearly chewing on it, his eyes darkening in color. "And I know my brother can. Reeve--" _

"_He can't," Yazoo interrupted with a firm shake of his head. He paused to take a deep breath, fingers curling against the table top. "I think we're all beyond the point of saving." _

_Reis blinked at his abrupt words, the worry trickling through her blossoming into full-on concern, making her heart stutter. "Yazoo--" _

_He rose to his feet quickly, nearly shoving his chair backwards with the sudden movement. Luckily, the other patrons were too enthralled by the music and their own conversations to really pay any attention to theirs. "It's best if you forgot about me. For your safety, Reis." _

"_But I..." _

"_Here are your drinks." Their server appeared out of nowhere with perfect timing, their order carefully balanced on a tray. She had been preoccupied and hadn't noticed their discussion, but now she paused, her gaze flickering between the two. _

_Yazoo took the moment of distraction to shake his head, already backing towards the door. "I didn't mean for it to end like this," he muttered, meeting Reis' amber gaze strongly for all of a second. And then he was darting into the dim of the crowd, moving quicker than she could have expected. _

"_Is he...?" _

_Reis didn't bother to answer the woman's question, grabbing her bag and trying not to trip on her own feet as she skirted around tables and other customers. How Yazoo had done it so quickly and with obvious ease, she didn't know. But she had to catch up to him, to find him and get more explanations than the vague mentions. _

_His eyes... they had been so resigned. Lonely and afraid, she was certain of it. Whatever reason had kept him missing for a week, whatever had always haunted him when she talked about her family and he didn't. Whatever softened his gaze when he spoke of his brothers. There was something there, she was certain of it. _

_A few stared as she edged past them, finally breaking free of the table cluttered with chairs. She caught a glimpse of silver hair heading towards the door, and cursed under her breath in aggravation. Her mother would have been scandalized. Not that she really cared. _

_In the background, the song ended, and the familiar strains of her favorite song, the one that Yazoo had probably been referring to, began to echo through the coffeehouse. How ironic. Nearly clonking someone over the head with her handbag, Reis slid around the first table and headed straight for the exit. She skirted around a couple entering, ignoring their wide-eyed stares, and burst out onto the sidewalk. _

_Unsurprisingly, it was packed with people, as the streets of Junon often were. The city, formerly abandoned with the building of Midgar and other new cities, had become more populated after the Chaos War. Since other towns had been demolished, many residents had sought refuge in Junon and never left, thus the increase in population. _

_Reis' frantically scanned the crowd, relieved for her height in that moment. Silver hair should have been easy to spot, especially Yazoo's long locks. As would that black leather outfit. Her breath in her throat, she stalked down the sidewalk, eyes whipping around the area. _

_But he was gone, disappearing into thin air. He had appeared like that often, out of nowhere with no warning and no sign. Footsteps silent. Trained. Not unlike her brother-in-law. Reno was always sneaking up on her on purpose. It amused him to surprise her. _

_Sighing in disappointment, Reis dropped down into an empty bench, ignoring the strange stares she was garnering. She couldn't--_

The sound of crying snapped her out of her dreams, Revan's wailing like an instant alarm. With a groan, Reis rubbed her hand over her face and pushed the blanket off her legs. Her back ached from the strange position, but that was only a consequence of napping on a couch. Never the most comfortable.

Running a hand over her hair, likely disheveled by now, Reis rose to her feet and half-stumbled towards the side bedroom where the upset cries were echoing from. The dream lingered in the back of her mind. Or memory, to be more precise. That was the last time she had seen Yazoo, several days ago and long before this whole mess started. The same mess her brother had sent her away from as if she couldn't take care of herself.

Revan's crying grew louder as she pushed open the door and Reis clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "We're both supposed to be napping," she reminded the infant, scooping the babe into her arms.

Revan hiccuped, blue eyes bright from crying. She made a gurgle, her hands clutching onto Reis' clothing as she cradled the infant. Sighing, Reis gently traced her fingers over Revan's dark fuzz and quickly checked the diaper. Nope, still clean and dry. And she couldn't possibly be hungry, considering they'd only been napping for twenty minutes and she had just fed her.

Tucking the infant's blanket tighter around her, Reis returned to the living room and plopped back down on the couch. Revan had stopped crying once Reis picked her up. The little brat had probably wanted attention. No surprise there. It didn't help that Reeve and Reno both doted on her.

Somewhat amused, Reis settled into the cushions, Revan tucked into her arm, and reached for the remote. Fighting back a yawn – it had been a long day – she clicked on the television, looking for something vaguely distracting or interesting. Reis never bothered to change the channel, her attention grabbed by a flash news report.

Her heart climbed into her chest, and she hurriedly turned up the volume. When Reeve said danger was coming, she hadn't expected _that_. Her eyes widened at the sight of the huge creature flying over the streets of Junon, the camera a bit shaky as it was done by an amateur. Already, she could see several buildings were demolished, her worry eased only by the sight of the WRO headquarters still standing.

The screen switched to the announcer, whose face was pinched with concern. "This scene is matched in its horror only by one witnessed earlier today, where dozens of children appeared to be held hostage by two young men. Our newsmen were able to shoot this footage before being attacked by the beasts the men summoned."

Reis' mouth dropped, her eyes widening impossibly large, as the steady camera focused in on the main square of Junon. At least a dozen children were visible within the camera's view, circling the infamous statue, and standing in front of them, staring impassively, were Yazoo and what had to be one of his brothers. She suspected Loz since he was the eldest and fit Yazoo's description.

What in _Hades _was going on? Was that Yazoo had meant?

Lips firming, unable to take her eyes away from the screen, Reis scrabbled for her cell. A few key presses and she was dialing Yazoo's phone, not that he had answered it in the past few days. This time, rather than receiving voice mail, she was sent straight to a message. The number had been disconnected.

Reis cursed fluently under her breath, and then looked down at the impressionable infant in her arms. "Don't tell your daddy I said that," she murmured, already keying in the next number. Easy to do so when it was first on her speed dial. "And if he doesn't answer his phone, you and I are heading back to Junon if I have to steal a helicopter to get there."

Revan gurgled, in complete agreement, one hand reaching for the phone.

The phone rang several times before it was answered, Reeve's voice pouring through the receiver along with a hefty dose of wind static. "Reis? Is everything alright?"

"How can you ask me that?" she demanded hotly, feeling her fingers clench around the phone. "Worrying about me when you've got a forty foot snake trying to destroy Junon!"

The cell crackled and she lost the first bits of his sentence. "--worry. We'll be fine. We're trained for this."

"You're an executive!" Reis declared, trying her best not to shriek. "And I'm here, just like I was before, while you're running out there fighting monsters! And why is Yazoo in the thick of it?"

There was a moment of silence, that she couldn't tell if it was intentional or a consequence of the wind disruption, before her brother answered. "You know him?"

She let out a sound of aggravation. "That's not important right now. What's going on?"

In the background, she heard the distinct sound of an explosion, and someone cursed fluently. It sounded like Reno. Her eyes flickered to the television, the screen showing scenes of the huge dragon crashing into a building as though having been bore down by a great force.

"Reis, I have to go," Reeve stated, his words fading in and out. "I promise, I'll call you when this is all over."

"Reeve!"

But he had already ended the call. With a sigh of aggravation, she tossed her head back against the couch and dropped the cell phone onto an empty cushion. Revan shifted in her arms, gurgling worriedly.

Reis' free hand rose, the back of her wrist falling across her eyes as she swallowed thickly. She couldn't fight. Reis knew that logically. She had no experience in battle and would likely get herself killed. But she wanted to be there, she had to know. Just what was happening with Yazoo?

The unanswered questions were driving her mad.

* * *

a/n: I don't know why, but I'm particularly proud of this chapter. I just had a good flow going and it shows. I really like it! I hope you enjoyed as well.

There are about eight more chapters left in this piece. Which means I need to get off my lazy aft and write them. Encouragement is always welcome. *prod, prod*

Thanks for reading! I'm glad to see that I haven't completely lost my fans!


	21. Chapter 13: The Fall From Grace

a/n: Update time again! There be warnings of character death here. I'm sorry! *wibbles* But it had to be done. And it's been plotted from the beginning, even as far back as Shattered Ice.

Once again, this has been self-beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

**Shattered Children: Chapter Thirteen**

**The Fall From Grace**

The silence in the underground garage was as unnerving as always. Reno, who was used to noise and hustle and bustle, never quite got used to it. And it didn't help that his only accompaniment was a man who walked without ever making a sound, and a cursing pilot, too busy puffing away at a cigarette, despite the looks his lover was giving him. Reno really didn't want to get caught between a lover's spat.

It didn't help that the smell of nicotine was making Reno crave one of his own. And he'd given up that habit as well. For the sake of his daughter.

Sighing, Reno raked fingers through his wind-tangled hair and whipped out the keys to the motorcycle paddock. It was really just a large section of the garage sectioned off by a chainlink fence that reached all the way to the ceiling.

"What do ya think yer gonna do when ya actually catch them?" Highwind's question poured into the silence as he sucked one more draw from his cigarette and flicked it to the ground, grinding out the flared tip with his heel.

"I haven't thought that far ahead," Vincent answered him carefully, his grey eyes unreadable. "We can't kill them."

Reno snorted. "Bullshit. Saving their lives is not my priority."

"That's just the Turk in ya talkin'," Cid retorted, rolling his shoulders and moving to help Reno drag open the huge fencing.

There was a violent-sounding screech as the gate was hauled aside and then left wide open. The three men slipped inside, Cid drawn to one of the cycles as Reno unerringly found his absolute favorite. One he'd lovingly helped refurbish himself and made his own. With a swing of one long leg, he seated himself on the massive cycle, flicking the switch to turn it on.

The loud rumble of the engine filled the silence of the underground garage, all too quickly joined by the sound of a second as Cid claimed his own as well. Grinning despite himself, Reno placed his hand on the handle and revved the engine.

Between the two, leaning on one of the stone columns and refusing to select a bike, Vincent crossed his arms. "All right, children. We have work to do," he commented, rolling his eyes at their behavior.

Reno ignored the former Turk, instead eying Cid with a smirk on his lips. "You sure ya know how to use one of these old man?" he taunted.

Twisting his jaw, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, Cid snorted. "We'll see, brat," he retorted, kicking out the stand for the cycle in one smooth motion. "Try to keep up."

His shouted words echoed around the underground garage as Cid whipped the handle and hit the gas, causing the back tires to screech loudly. The motorcycle went into a tight turn and abruptly shot through the open gate, heading quickly for the exit. Suitably impressed, Reno grinned and slammed down on the accelerator, effecting a similar move to chase after the captain.

Honestly, Reno wasn't really sure how Valentine planned on keeping up to them. He hardly thought about the former Turk as he shot out of the corral after Cid, the cycle's speed quickly taking him to the exit. He emerged into the pale light of the day, wind whipping across his face and bringing with it the heavy stench of ash and destruction. Unfortunately, it was an all-too-familiar odor.

The tall buildings of Junon loomed around them, only halfway damaged in this part of the city. The roads were clearer than most, making it easy to navigate. Ahead of him, Cid was heading for the main street. Reno gunned the engine to catch up to the pilot, all the while wondering where Valentine was. No cycle had followed him out of the garage.

"Where's Valentine?" he called out loudly as he drew up beside the captain, Cid shifting down to allow him to catch up.

Cid smirked. "He'll be along inna minute. You'll see."

Reno wasn't quite sure how the former Turk was going to accomplish that but if anyone knew his lover, Cid did. He decided to give the captain the benefit of the doubt. Shrugging, he shifted his attention to the streets ahead of him, abruptly abandoned after Reeve's warnings and the summon's attacks. Hopefully, many managed to flee to safety.

He had no sooner focused on the road, wondering where exactly the brothers had gone, when a streak of crimson suddenly shot past him. Reno gaped as he recognized the blur, and its crown of dark hair. Vincent leapt onto a nearby awning, which barely creaked under his weight, and leapt towards the sky, his body twisting mid-air. Before Reno's very eyes, wings snapped out of his shoulders and he transformed into a very familiar beast.

His mouth dropped open and Reno knew he gaped. Beside him, Cid laughed loudly, most likely at his expense.

"How the hell did he do that, yo?" Reno demanded, eyes glancing wildly between Cid and Vincent, who was rising higher into the air with powerful beats of his wings.

"What, forget what Kami gave 'im already?"

Reno tried to remember. "Errrm..." There was something about the god giving Vincent custody of the Apocalypse materia so that he could still use their powers. If he thought about it, he might recall something to that effect. Is that what that was?

"Don't worry," Cid added with another uproarious laugh, reaching up and snapping his goggles down over his face to combat the whipping wind. "Vince'll find 'em for us." He released the glasses and pointed a finger upwards, gesturing towards his lover. "See?"

Lifting his gaze, Reno caught sight of Vincent veering intently towards the right, as though he had spotted something. Without hesitation, Cid screeched around a corner and followed him. Shaking his head, Reno reached up and slid down his own sunglasses, his eyes already tearing from the force of his wind. And with a smile on his face, he accelerated, catching up to Cid and watching Vincent from above.

The man-turned-beast outpaced them, despite the motorcycles, and the two men were quick to follow his directions. It wasn't long before the route started to become very familiar to Reno. And, it seemed, to Cid as well.

"They're trying to leave Junon!" Cid realized, shouting over the wind.

"We'll catch them first," Reno muttered, more to himself than to the captain.

There was a series of tunnels that connected Junon from the upper levels, dumping travelers outside and on a road to Fort Condor. They had been built to bypass the necessity of exiting through the lower levels, and Reeve had made every effort to complete them in the past year or so.

No sooner had the thought passed through his mind then did Reno hear the sound of gunshots and screeching tires, quickly followed by a light explosion. Above them, Vincent was banking downwards, nearly a crimson blur. And ahead of them, the road curved sharply. Reno shifted his weight to take the curve, and rounded the corner, instantly greeted with the sight of the three brothers and Sephiroth.

With an abrupt dive, Vincent dropped from his position, changing mid-flight and colliding harshly with one of the three brothers. Reno thought it might have been Yazoo. Pulled from his cycle, the two hit the ground harshly, the cycle skidding out of control and slamming into a parked car. Reno wasn't worried. It would take a lot more than that to hurt Valentine, and just as much to defeat one of the Sephiroth look-a-likes.

One down, two to go.

Reno pulled up beside Cid and caught his eye. In silent agreement, a plan was formed and Reno abruptly turned into a side alley, Cid whipping the handle to enter the one opposite him. If they could get around Loz from both sides, they could box him in, leaving Sephiroth to deal with Kadaj alone. It seemed a fair trade.

Weaving through the cluttered alleyways, occasionally plunging straight through garbage cans when necessary, Reno increased his speed bit by bit. It was reckless, but he didn't want to miss his chance. They needed to cut Loz off from his brother.

Light glimmered at the end of the tunnel and Reno grinned, pulling back on the throttle and shooting out into the street. He narrowly avoided a telephone pole, and was rewarded for his recklessness when the roar of other cycles greeted his ears. He cut out in front of Loz's bike, causing the other man to swerve to avoid him. But in that instant, Loz collided with Cid who had emerged from the alley across the street.

There was a resounding clang as the two cycles roughly swiped each other, and Loz growled, taking a swipe at Cid. The pilot was quick to duck, taking the butt of his spear and shoving it into the inner workings of the bike, revealed as a piece of metal plating went flying off and clanged nosily against the ground. The move locked the two together as they went into a tight spin, trading awkward blows.

Reno slammed on the brakes and forced the cycle to whip around, even as Kadaj sped past him, sparing his brothers a brief glance before continuing on. There wasn't a trace of humanity in that gaze, just resignation and sacrifice. And then Kadaj slipped past all of them, zooming straight into the tunnel.

A boom echoed in the streets as Cid and Loz hit a building, coming to an abrupt halt. Reno left tire treads in his wake as he rushed back towards them, Loz leaping away from Cid and kicking apart their bikes. Loz' own cycle was thrown by the force of the blow.

Reno screeched to a halt, leaping from his cycle and withdrawing his EMR, flicking it on with a twist of his wrist.

A smirk on his face, Loz was cracking his knuckles, seemingly unperturbed for the obvious attempt to separate him from his brothers and their plan. Even more eerie, was the constant shift in his eyes, flexing between a soft moss and a supernatural, poisonous green. Cat-like at times, intermingling with his human appearance. Just like Sephiroth when Jenova tried to sink her claws into him.

It sent a shiver up Reno's spine.

Behind him, a cycle suddenly roared past, Sephiroth unerringly following after Kadaj. Reno received only a glimpse of him. He silently wished the former general good luck, because it looked like they would all need some.

"Let Vince handle that brat," Cid informed him, back drawn tight with tension as they faced down Loz. "And Sephiroth can take the kid. We'll handle Tall and Stupid."

Idly stretching out an arm to work out the kink in his shoulder, Reno inclined his head, silently powering up a particularly powerful materia. "Sounds good to me, yo."

* * *

It was hard to distinguish anything above the scent of blood and ash. The entire area was caked in both, the harsh odor of death and fear. Nanaki's nose rebelled against shoving his nose deeper into the mire, but he had a job to do. He couldn't let his sensibilities get in the way. Besides, Yuffie was sticking it out without complaint. He could do it, too.

Still, finding Elena and Marlene's scent buried amongst all the other odors that lingered in this area was a rather difficult task. If he weren't so familiar with them, it would have been impossible.

"I think I have something," Yuffie called out from where she was nosing around a few feet away. Her tail flicked worriedly behind her.

Nanaki leapt over a piece of ruined building and made his way to her side, picking carefully over the dangerous debris. He tried not to look too closely at the numerous corpses, crushed beneath rubble or looking as if they'd been mauled by some creature. It made his stomach clench. Despite his experience with battle, he never could get used to the death of the innocent. He couldn't imagine how Tseng, with his abilities, was handling it.

Yuffie was faring little better than he, though she hid it just as well. Even in her Iyatokan form, he could tell that she was bothered by what had happened. Her normally sparkling and energetic brown eyes were dimmed with sorrow, only heightened by the fact that two of her dear friends – no, family really – were missing.

"What did you find?" Nanaki asked, padding silently up beside her.

She lifted her head, her gaze tracing a path that only her nose could locate as Nanaki attempted to sniff it out for himself. "I think it's both of them. They headed that way."

He followed her gaze, swallowing thickly in response. In that direction, the destruction was much, much worse. An office building was just a shell of its former opulence, half of it cracking off and sliding into the ground. The structure next to it had toppled over, and hung precariously, and in front of both, another building had crumbled. It was a mass of stone and steel and office detritus.

"Towards that?"

Brown eyes looked at him. "I think so."

Nanaki took a deep breath and then bowed his head, his nose seeking out two familiar scents beneath all the other strong odors. He caught a whiff of Elena's usual fragrance, a mix of her perfume and the strong scent of thunderstorms, like fresh rain falling. And Marlene always smelled of candy and bubble bath, not flowery fragrances, but something sweet like fruit and chocolate.

Yuffie was right. They were near here. Biting back his concern, Nanaki pinned down the trail and started following it, Yuffie at his side.

"They are heading towards the buildings," he murmured to himself, though Yuffie heard it as well. "Safety perhaps?"

"Maybe," she agreed, but it was half-hearted. Worry darkened Yuffie's eyes further, until they reflected nothing but her concern. She loped ahead of him, double-checking the trail every now and then, but mostly staying on a direct path.

The scent grew stronger the closer they drew to the shadows of the ruined buildings. Behind a huge fall of debris, an alleyway loomed, completely darkened as its position blocked it from any sunlight. Wires and bits of twisted fire escapes dangled from above, but for the most part, it was empty other than the scattered trash cans and pieces of rubble.

Nanaki paused at the top of a piece of wall, formerly belonging to an office, he believed. He looked around, tail flickering anxiously behind him.

"Nanaki! Over here!"

To his right and below him, Yuffie had stopped just inside the mouth of the alleyway, where the last bits of debris strewn out faintly. As he watched, she shifted back into her human form, hand raised to her mouth. The ninja knelt slowly, shoulders sagging, and Nanaki just knew, in that moment, that it wasn't good.

He quickly leapt down, changing mid-leap so that he landed on two feet rather than his more lupine appearance. He winced momentarily, the landing jarring the Geostigma in his leg. Nanaki didn't need her to say anything. The scent was strongest here, only because he was so focused on it. And it was tainted now, heavy with the stench of blood. Flowers growing in the midst of a battlefield.

His heart dropped into his stomach, and when he looked down, he saw what had caught Yuffie's attention. An arm beneath the edge of the rubble, half-buried and reaching.

"Do you think...?"

"I don't want to," Nanaki interrupted haggardly, crouching to get a better grip on the huge slab of concrete that concealed the rest of the forms beneath. "But there's only way to be sure."

He didn't ask Yuffie to help, and she didn't offer. She simply stood back, chewing worriedly on her lip, and watched as his muscles flexed. He heaved the piece of stone to the side with great effort, and a cloud of dust accompanied the motion. It blinded him momentarily, but he didn't need to look down.

Yuffie's startled gasp from behind him was all the answer he needed. Nanaki turned away and grabbed her, pulling her into his arms even as she started to shake. Yuffie buried her face in his chest.

"_Aki." _

He shushed her, burying his own face in the familiarity of her hair and tried to make his own hurt go away. It was all they ever did, fight for the sake of the world. And yet, it stole such important things from them. Over and over again. First Cloud, and now Elena and Marlene. Just a child!

Nanaki held her for several minutes, letting her tears dampen his shirt and her hands clutch onto his sides. It helped ease his own pain to do so. Because if it had been Yuffie, he wouldn't know how he would have handled it. It would have killed him.

The sound of a phone buzzing seemed all too loud in the sorrowful silence, and Nanaki had a sinking feeling he knew just who was calling him. Releasing one arm, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the phone, swallowing thickly. His throat felt tight, and his eyes hot; it was a struggle to remain some sort of calm.

Later... later he could mourn. Later he would allow Yuffie to hold him while he grieved. But there were still things to do.

To be expected, it was Reeve. But Nanaki didn't want to waste time with pleasantries. He answered the call. "Yes, Reeve. I found them." Nanaki's fingers clenched around the phone and he heard the plastic give a warning crack, not liking the pressure at all.

Strange, he shared its sentiment.

* * *

He was getting closer; Sephiroth could feel it. Like a crawling sensation prickling over his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck raise. The nearer he drew to Kadaj's position, the more he felt enclosed in her presence. Submerging in tepid water, with his entire body caked in clinging oil. And soon he would drown in it.

Her voice whispered on the edge of his thoughts, not yet actual words, but just impressions. Calling to him, dragging him closer. Urging him onwards. It made his fingers clench around Odin's handle, his booted feet press all the harder against the accelerator. Sephiroth's jaw clenched so hard that it ached.

He didn't know exactly what he was going to do. Perhaps this was his final battle, the last time he would enjoy this thing they called life. Perhaps he should have taken the time to say goodbye.

Sephiroth could feel _it_, as well, creeping further and further across his skin. His arm was growing numb, fingers tingling. He wondered if he would even be able to continue gripping the handle before long. And he couldn't turn his head without a stab of pain shooting up his back. The agony was distracting. Lucky for him, Hojo had trained him to bear all manner of torture.

He could do this. Even if it cost him his life. He _would_ do this.

Ahead of him, he caught sight of the bright and natural light of the sun. The literal light at the end of the tunnel. The sound of Odin's engine was a loud roar around him, echoing in his ears. And he tensed, unsure what to be prepared for on the other side. It was the perfect spot for an ambush. But whether or not Kadaj would do such a thing, he wasn't sure.

Jenova was still calling to Sephiroth after all. She wanted him badly, and he didn't know how far she would take it to get him.

Sunlight drew closer, and Sephiroth pulled back on the throttle. With a rumble of his motor, he shot forward and out of the tunnel. Momentarily blinded by the brightness, as his tires tore over the graveled road, he barely noticed the obstruction ahead of him. Kadaj was standing there, in the middle of the fucking road, staring at nothing.

Sephiroth jerked on the handle to avoid the brat and his motorcycle, preferring to not die in a fiery explosion. To be expected, however, the massive cycle didn't take the abrupt turn happily. It skidded and started twisting, wiping out on the loose rocks that comprised the recently created road.

Odin skidded out of his grasp, and Sephiroth went flying another direction, landing harshly on the ground. His head struck something, a piece of broken wood he thought, and he landed roughly on his Geostigma-covered arm. A stab of pain shot through his entire body, but he contained it with barely a whimper. Seconds later, the sound of metal scraping and a sharp thud informed him that his bike had stopped moving as well.

Yet, Sephiroth's eyes weren't for himself or his motorcycle. They were unerringly focused on the same thing that had caught Kadaj's attention, causing him to dismount in the middle of the road and stare as though he'd lost his mind. His eyes were unfocused, the container he had stolen from Reeve dangling from one hand, almost as though it were trash.

There, in the middle of the road, stood Cloud. Or at least, what Sephiroth thought was Cloud because surely this was an apparition. His head, suddenly aching, must have conjured that blond-haired, blue-eyed apparition. Except, Kadaj seemed to see him, too, and his body was shaking with restrained emotion.

"Nii-san?" Kadaj questioned, and his voice cracked with uncertainty.

Sephiroth blinked, attempting to haul himself to his feet. His body ached, and wanted to resist all movement. His head ached, and he prodded at the quickly forming knot gently. He was seeing stars, so maybe, the Cloud he was seeing wasn't real either.

The phantom which resembled Cloud smiled, making his blue eyes brighten. He was dressed just like Cloud as well, and there were few who could pull off that blond, spiked hairstyle. Sephiroth wondered if he'd hit his head too hard. And then, Cloud lifted a hand, reaching for Kadaj.

The kid took a sudden step backwards, away from the offered hand. The container of Jenova smacked against his chest as he held it close, body trembling visibly.

"It can't be," Kadaj decided for himself, sounding very much like a scared child in that moment. "You're not real. You're not."

Sephiroth could only stare, unable to do much of anything as he watched the spectacle. The Cloud specter was looking at Kadaj, sympathy in his gaze, and then he reached forward again, all without moving a step. It was only in that moment that Sephiroth realized he was holding something in his palm, a small white orb that glistened pale green and white.

Cloud's eyes held Kadaj's for several moments, the boy refusing to budge, and then his palm tipped over to the side very slowly. The orb, which really resembled a materia to Sephiroth though he'd never seen one of that color, rocked in the apparition's palm, only to fall to the ground. It landed with a faint chime as it hit a stone, proving its reality. The sound seemed to ring throughout the air.

Before Sephiroth's eyes, the materia-shaped sphere sank into the earth, a sudden outpouring of water suddenly appearing beneath it. The liquid shimmered and rippled, growing wider and wider until it was a small pool. There was a tingle, like the working of magic, and the water suddenly shot into the air, higher than Kadaj stood tall. It hung suspended, a moving fountain of glimmering liquid, only to explode upwards and outwards, causing a fall of water like pure rain.

It splattered the entire area, and yet, the rain kept falling, though the original source had long since vanished. The pool of water itself was drying up, and the blue sky continued to drip softly, a cool rain. Sephiroth winced slightly as it dropped down on his head, and held up a gloved hand, catching a few droplets in his palm. The rain appeared to shimmer in his hold, standing like a pure gem against the black of the leather.

"No! What is this?" Kadaj's startled and frightened shout forced his gaze back to the boy, who was jerking away from the falling rain as though it were acidic.

His green eyes were wide, terror lurking in their depths. And he screamed, something incoherent and frightened, glaring accusingly at the Cloud apparition before suddenly darting towards his bike. Kadaj leapt onto the cycle, revving with a loud rumble of the engine, and speeding down the road. The container holding Jenova was clutched tightly to his chest, as though he feared losing his grip on it.

Sephiroth knew that he should probably chase after him, but for the moment, he couldn't seem to make himself move. His eyes were for the specter of Cloud, whose gaze had now turned to him. There was a distance between them, but Sephiroth didn't really feel it. Almost as if Cloud really was standing right there next to him, a strange expression on his face. His eyes unreadable.

And then one corner of his lip curled into a smile. He said something, but no sound emerged, just his mouth moving. His image appeared to ripple, like some sort of mirage, losing its solidity.

Rain drizzled onto Sephiroth's face, sliding down the length of his hair and dripping down his back. He could feel it soaking into his clothes, even through the bandages that tightly wound his upper body. It left a tingling sensation in its wake, and yet, Sephiroth hardly noticed.

"Cloud...?"

The figure shifted, inclining its head faintly, as if answering affirmatively. Sephiroth lifted a hand, he wasn't sure why. Perhaps he thought to reach for Cloud, to answer the hand that Kadaj had been too foolish to take. And when he did, he caught sight of his own wrist, not even realizing that he had lifted his Geostigma-infected hand. He yanked off his leather glove, tossing it to the ground.

To his surprise, the Geostigma was beginning to fade, lifting from his skin as though it were a fine mist of black and pale green. It curled away from his body and vanished into thin air, leaving behind his own skin, smooth and pale. The crippling sensation that had gathered in his fingers was vanishing before his very eyes.

"I... what is this?" Sephiroth murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

He drew his hand back to himself, and moved his fingers around, surprised at their dexterity. He turned his hand over and over, stared at his palm, watched the infection dissipate. Sephiroth grabbed at the bandages with his other hand, pulling them away from his arm, the Geostigma there healing as well.

The pain was leaving him. Even without a mirror, Sephiroth could feel it. The rain was healing the affliction. There was no other explanation for it. And somehow, Cloud had brought this about.

Cloud...

Sephiroth lifted his gaze to where the blond had been standing, but there was no one there now. Just the faint impression of a former puddle. Cloud was nowhere in sight, not even when Sephiroth whirled around, scanning the landscape. The area was silent, save for the soft sound of the rain falling against the ground.

Was it real, or just an illusion? Had Cloud really been there in some form? The materia, that had been real, and so was this rain. As was the healing. Perhaps Cloud had been real as well? The former general simply didn't know.

Sephiroth tilted his head back, looking at the bright blue sky and blinking when the rain struck him in the forehead. Soft and cool, tingling gently. It felt strangely cleansing. For the first time, in recent months, Jenova's voice had all but vanished from his mind. He couldn't even sense the pull of her desires.

Could this mean he was forgiven? Had the Planet granted him mercy at last? Or was it only a momentary respite?

Perhaps it did. Either way, that definitely meant he couldn't back down now. Kadaj still had Jenova, and the will to use her. Sephiroth had to stop him.

Resolve gathered, Sephiroth squared his shoulders and dropped his head, in search of Odin. The engine was still rumbling faintly as it lay like a beached sea mammal on its side, unharmed for the wipe out. He righted the motorcycle, ignored the way his clothes were clinging to him wetly, and climbed aboard.

The road had only one destination. Unless Kadaj planned to divert somewhere along the way, he was heading for Fort Condor. And Sephiroth had the feeling that Kadaj didn't really have a plan, just an instinct, an impression of Jenova's desire and his duty.

As he roared onto the graveling road, spitting stone and exhaust in his wake, the rain gradually eased. The sky dripped a few more inches, and then it eased, giving everything a fresh, revived sense. Washing the world away.

* * *

The silence in the alleyway was stifling. No one wanted to speak, all feeling the weight of sorrow and guilt crashing down on them.

Tseng especially, couldn't handle it right now. He really couldn't. His hands were clenched so tightly into fists, he worried he would break his own fingers. Emotions pressed heavily on his mind, and they combated with his own, making the pain he felt that much more real. He wanted to cry, the feeling was certainly there, but Tseng shoved it down into the deepest pits of his composure.

His fault. The words rang over and over in his head. If he hadn't let her go, if he had only found her more quickly. It was his damned fault.

He couldn't even lift his eyes to look at the others. Couldn't bear to. Otherwise he'd just see them again.

Zack with his bloodied knuckles, hands flat against the wall of one of the buildings and staring angrily at the ground. He'd punched the building in his anger, and now he was surrounded in his silent grief, shoulders shaking but seeking no comfort.

Archer, off by himself and staring into the darkness of the other end of the alley. His shoulders drawn tight with so many conflicting emotions, Tseng couldn't make sense of them. Guilt and grief and regret and despair. Darker emotions that he wasn't used to sensing from the normally optimistic male.

Yuffie, silently weeping as she sat disconsolately on a piece of debris, staring out at the oddly blue sky beyond the shadows cast by the buildings. Nanaki crouched beside her, sharing the vista. His hands were dirty and bloody, so he kept them draped between his knees. It had been he to pull Elena and Marlene from the rubble, laying them out carefully for the sake of the others.

Reeve, sitting up against the wall on the other building, holding a sobbing Denzel in his arms. Tseng had been unable to handle the boy's pain and wished that they'd taken him somewhere else, so he wouldn't have to see this. It didn't help that the weight of Reeve's guilt only added to Tseng's own, threatening to bury the Wutaiian beneath the bulk of it. Until it felt as if he could barely stand.

And there he was, sitting beside the bodies of his precious subordinate and the little girl who had adored him so deeply. Face dry, though his throat had closed and his eyes burned tightly. He held Marlene's limp hand in his own, and wished that he could turn back time just a little. Enough so that a Life would work. Or a Phoenix Down. Or that he could have held onto her tightly so that she couldn't have slipped from his grasp.

That she hadn't been so willful. That it wasn't his damn fault. There was nothing he could do to get forgiveness for this. Hell, Tseng couldn't forgive himself. Why was it everything was collapsing around him? What more was the planet going to take from him?

His home. His family. His sanity. His closest friend. Marlene. Sephiroth.

Tseng abruptly froze, silver eyes widening fractionally. _Sephiroth_. Still by himself, fighting those clones. And her, Jenova, who wanted to take him back. It was their fault – _her _fault – that all this had happened. She had caused the summon to attack. She and her selfish desire to take his planet for her own.

She wanted to take the last thing Tseng had from him. And he couldn't let her do that. Because Denzel needed him. And Zack needed him. But most of all, Tseng needed him. And he wasn't going to let that bitch win.

Forcing himself to take a long breath, Tseng lifted Marlene's hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly, not wanting it to travel to anyone's ears but his own. And then he let her go carefully, rising to his feet with what was probably an abrupt motion.

He threw blast doors down within his mind, shuttering himself off from all the emotions that were crowding his thoughts. Tseng couldn't afford them right now. He had something he needed to do, before it was too late for him to do anything at all.

His gaze focused on the end of the alleyway, where he could just make out the sounds of the helicopters rotors quietly turning. It was in its lowest powered mode, just waiting for them to climb back aboard. And Tseng planned on taking advantage of that.

"Tseng?"

His motions had not gone unnoticed, and he felt Reeve's eyes on him. "What are you doing?"

He didn't spare the President a glance, trying to force his hands to unfurl as he headed for the exit of the alley. "I'm going after Sephiroth."

There was the sound of scrambling as Reeve rushed to get to his feet, Denzel still clinging tightly to him. "By yourself?"

"Yes."

"No!" The denial was accompanied by the sound of a fist slamming into a wall for the second time that day, some of the stone crumpling beneath the force of the former SOLDIER's blow. "I'm coming with you."

Tseng paused, glancing over his shoulder and meeting Zack's gaze evenly. While his eyes were red-rimmed, his expression was filled with determination. One hand was already clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword, heedless to the blood his knuckles dripped to the pavement.

"Why?"

"Because Sephiroth needs me. And you shouldn't do this alone."

"It's not for revenge?"

Tseng didn't know why he was asking, since he felt that same dark desire growing inside of him. To spill their blood, to make that bitch pay for causing pain to those he cared about. For stealing Elena and Marlene from him, and threatening to take Sephiroth. He wanted blood.

Crystalline eyes flickered, and Zack just looked at him. He didn't answer verbally, but his expression said enough. Maybe it was revenge; maybe he just wanted to save his very best friend. Perhaps he just wanted to do something rather than stand by the sidelines and wait. Either way, Tseng wasn't going to stop him.

Without a word, he turned back towards the helicopter, feeling time ticking away around him. Who knew how long it would be before Sephiroth collided with those brothers, or when the others joined him?

The sound of footsteps assured him that Zack was joining him, and they stepped past Nanaki and Yuffie, who didn't offer a word of argument. Nor did they offer to go. Perhaps they understood that it was something Tseng and Zack had to do on their own.

"Wait!" Someone else scrambled up the debris behind them, voice almost desperate. "I'm going with you."

It was Zack who stopped this time, his blue eyes almost dead with grief. "I don't think--"

"I don't care," Archer interrupted, seeming crazed for his desperation. "I'm not as strong as you two. I know that. But I'm going anyways."

Zack's gaze sought out the President, trying to get the older man to agree with him. "Reeve, tell him. It's not his fight."

"And neither is it yours, really," Archer shot back shortly, and scrubbed his palm over his face, only succeeding in smearing the blood and dirt that had streaked his skin. "I have to do this, Reeve. Please. Just let me do this."

Tseng only listened, growing impatient as he waited for them to make up their minds. His palms were itching and his heart was heavy. In the back of his mind, he could still see them lying there, so still and quiet. He had to do something.

Behind him, Reeve sighed, and Tseng knew that sound. It was his defeated sigh, one that proved he wasn't going to argue. "I won't stop you."

"He's going to get himself killed," Zack argued out of frustration. It wasn't so much that he didn't want Archer coming along, but that he worried the man would, in the end, find himself at death's door.

"Then so be it," Archer declared, climbing up the last bits of debris and standing at the top with the two former ShinRa employees. "But if I don't try, I'll never forgive myself. And I already have one regret on my shoulder that I'll never lose the weight of. I can't have another. I have to save him."

If he hadn't already accidentally garnered the truth, Tseng would have wondered whom Archer met. But he'd realized the connection between the engineer and Kadaj, and he knew what Archer was trying to do. Strangely, it was very similar to Tseng's own goals. And he wondered if Archer would be able to stop Zack from his revenge.

"If you think you can," Tseng muttered, glancing once at the determined engineer.

For the first time in a while, amethyst eyes burned with life. "I will."

Zack leapt to the ground on the other side of the rubble, heading straight for the helicopter still lazily rotating its blades. "Let's go."

Exchanging glances with Archer, Tseng thumbed the hilt of Yoshiyuki and followed the former SOLDIER down. They didn't have any time to waste.

Nanaki watched them leave, forced to shield his eyes from the dust and wind that the helicopter produced. Their exit was a reminder that, technically, they were still in the midst of battle. Jenova was still out there. Did they honestly have time to grieve?

There was a faint clatter as some rocks broke loose when Yuffie rose to her feet, her hand squeezing Nanaki's arm gently. She was still distraught, her eyes swollen from her tears, but her sense of strength still gathered around her.

And then Nanaki felt it. A drip of something cool onto his head. He blinked, looking up at the bright blue sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight. Another drop hit him straight in the forehead, cool, but faintly pleasant. He reached up, rubbing his fingers over the wetness.

"Rain...?" he murmured, looking down at the moist digits.

As if called by his comment, a soft rain indeed began to fall, dripping down on he and Yuffie rather gently. Yet, there still wasn't a cloud in sight. It was as if it fell from nowhere, blanketing the rubble in wetness. Nanaki held out a hand, watching the rain drops splash into his palm. Cool, but not uncomfortable, and it made his skin tingle.

Beside him, Yuffie suddenly gasped and grabbed onto his other arm, holding it out in front of him. "Nanaki. Look!"

Golden eyes dropped to his arm, where bandages had been wrapped for the past month or so. Yuffie's deft fingers were already unrolling the thick, white fabric. And to his amazement, where the Geostigma had been, just a small outbreak compared to most, it was beginning to fade. His skin tingled more here, and wherever the rain touched, it seemed to evaporate into thin air. The constant ache he had been suffering vanished along with it.

His eyes widened in absolute shock. "What's going on?"

"Reeve!" Yuffie called out excitedly. "Bring Denzel out here! Quick!"

Nanaki watched the Geostigma disappear, even as the rain dampened his hair and his clothes, soaking him gently. His palm turned over and over, cupping the crystal clear water in his hand.

Just to be sure it wasn't a fluke, he looked down, finding that the small outbreak on his thigh was disappearing as well. It hadn't spread enough to be bandaged, though it had been annoying at times. Before his eyes, it was dissipating, leaving faint tingles in his wake. Like the sensation of swallowing an Elixir, the healing buzz throughout his entire body.

"What... what is this?" Reeve's surprised exclamation caught their attention and Nanaki turned to see him watching Denzel in surprise, the bruise leaving the young boy's forehead.

"I don't know," Nanaki replied honestly, idly flexing and unflexing his fingers, just to feel his muscles move without pain again. "What does it mean?"

And no one had an answer.

Above them, the soft rain continued to fall, blanketing everything around them in a thin layer of cool moisture. Dripping from the sky, still an endless blue.

* * *

a/n: I'm cheating a little here. It's incredibly difficult to compose a proper motorcycle/fight/chase scene on paper. You just can't capture the same as you can with animation. So I didn't even try. So behold the powers of bullshit, as I've never driven a motorcycle in my life and have no idea about the terminology for it. Huzzah.

And now I go to hide from flying projectiles.

Next chapter soon, I promise.


	22. Chapter 14: Delusions of Grandeur

a/n: At last! After an unplanned hiatus, I have returned with the next chapter! I promise the next update won't take as long as I've already written the next chapter (it was actually written long before this one was since it's an interlude). I've made it my goal to finish _Shattered Children_ so I've been dedicating my time and focusing solely on it. So far so good. Let's hope the muses stay with me.

Not much warnings here except for the fact that it's unbeta'ed and there may be some grammatical errors. Enjoy!

By the way, "You Fight Me," by Breaking Benjamin was like the greatest background music for this battle. As was "Somewhere I Belong," by Linkin Park (which was Sephiroth's theme from _Broken and Bonded Refrain_ if anyone read that associated piece).

**Shattered Children: Chapter Fourteen**

**Delusions of Grandeur**

He could feel her, so close to him. The last remnants of Mother, the pieces of Jenova, throbbing against his chest. She was inside this box, this human-made cage. And her voice was that much louder, her presence impressionable.

Kadaj ignored the force of the whipping wind, the feeling of the motorcycle rumbling beneath him. It felt as if he were running away from something, because he certainly wasn't running _to_ anywhere. Just going where Mother led him. He didn't know what she wanted, just that Sephiroth following behind them was one of her desires. To her, he was nothing.

It hurt to fight her, like a physical pain ripping through his abdomen. And he kept thoughts of Archer buried deep inside his mind, where she couldn't touch them and rip them apart. Kadaj thought that those memories might be where his sanity was stored, and he wanted to cherish that. It was the one thing he protected mightily. The one thing he would not allow her to take.

His freedom and his existence were not his, after all, so he would cherish what he could. Archer's smiling face. His laugh. The feel of his hands. The weight of his emotions, never voiced but always known anyways.

He thought of his brothers, Loz and Yazoo, led down this path because they wouldn't let him slip into darkness alone. And he sincerely hoped that their enemies had been kind enough to grant them mercy. Kadaj wouldn't dare say it aloud, but he hoped that the President, Sephiroth, and everyone else brought them down. Perhaps it was the only way to be free of her curse. A part of him wished he didn't have to drag Loz and Yazoo with him, but they were as stubborn as he.

_**It's enough**_.

Jenova's voice slithered into his brain, cool and calm, but nonetheless completely invading. Kadaj jerked at the sudden assault, and his cycle responded to the motion, nearly careening from the path. He curled his fingers tightly around the handle, stopping the awkward motion.

_**My son, it is enough. Here is enough**_.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kadaj inclined his head. "As you wish, Mother."

And just like that, he skidded to a halt, tossing gravel from his tires and causing a stirring of dust. He didn't even bother to kick the stand. He allowed the stolen motorcycle to topple over on its side, another abandoned toy, and walked away. Souba still hung at his side, gently slapping against his side. Mother was tucked close against his chest, his fingers curled around the slim box. It almost seemed to pulse in his grasp.

This was his last moment of sanity, Kadaj realized. The last time he could claim to be Kadaj and not one of Mother's mouthpieces. He could already feel the pieces of himself being whittled away, and tried desperately to cling to a small part of him. Mother wormed her way inside of him, like an infectious disease a thousand times worse than the Geostigma.

_**He is coming**_, Mother assured him, practically preening with pride. And a very tangible buzz ran the length of the box. _**My son is coming**_.

Kadaj was too weak to tell her any different. His strength – mental at any rate – had completely expended. For months he had fought her, subtly resisting her call, clinging to his freedom. But why fight against the inevitable? Jenova was not to be refused.

Her darkness pulled at the edge of his conscious. His fingers tightened around the box. And in the distance, he heard the rumble of Sephiroth's cycle.

_**That's right**_, she purred, an imagined stroke of clawed fingers down Kadaj's spine. _**You are mine**_.

And Kadaj believed her. That was when the darkness took him, cresting over the back of his senses before overtaking him completely.

He idly hoped, before all that was Kadaj sank into the deepest recesses of his mind, that something like the afterlife actually existed for puppets like him.

* * *

To his utmost surprise, Kadaj was waiting for him. Sephiroth narrowly avoided the brat's abandoned motorcycle, screeching his own to a halt. Odin rumbled beneath him as he watched Kadaj, one foot pressed against the ground. The other man, in turn, watched him, eyes utterly empty of expression.

Without removing his gaze from Kadaj, Sephiroth switched Odin off and dismounted, reaching for the Murasame in the same moment. It comforted him, oddly enough, to be able to hold the sword again with his usual strength. There was no flash of pain, or pulling of muscles. The Geostigma was well and truly gone.

But why was the other man just standing there, clutching the box to his chest and looking at him blankly?

No, not empty. Sephiroth recognized those eyes, the cat-like emerald gems that gleamed of something from another world. He recognized the malicious intent in the half-smirk.

"Jenova," he hissed, fingers curling tightly around Murasame as he approached.

Kadaj's lips pulled into a wider smirk and a flicked a hand through his hair. "You look less than happy to see me, child," Kadaj's voice claimed, but it wasn't Kadaj behind the words. Sephiroth wondered if there was even anything left of the teen.

"Should I be?" he retorted, shuddering despite his every attempt not to. The very idea of Jenova slithered down his spine, making him recoil with horror. He didn't even know which was worse – his memories of Hojo and the man's foul deeds or the knowledge of the power Jenova held over him.

There was a slither of sword through leather and he watched as Kadaj/Jenova drew a sword, twin blades jutting from the same hilt. An odd weapon, but Sephiroth recognized the potential in it. His soldier's mind instantly categorized strengths and weaknesses. He would have to be cautious.

Something pressed on his mind, the dark and slithering presence growing stronger. Sephiroth squared his jaw, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the hilt of the Murasame. He needed his sanity. He clung to it. He thought of Cloud, of his recently healed arm. He thought of Tseng, left behind, and Denzel, begging him to come home. Sephiroth couldn't afford to lose it here. He _couldn't. _

Kadaj tilted his head at him, green eyes sharp and focused. "You've lost my gift, Sephiroth. Did you not enjoy the Geostigma?"

He stilled, echoes of pain shooting down his back, forcing him to remember the crippling stench of the Geostigma. ".... gift?"

"Or punishment." Kadaj shrugged nonchalantly, his poison-green stare focusing on Sephiroth with the sort of intent that radiated Jenova. "You are mine, child. You do not belong to these humans. You belong to me."

Sephiroth worked his jaw, sucking in a stuttered breath. He shook, trembling so badly that he could barely grip his Murasame. Jenova was there, seeping into all the cracks of his badly mended armor, trying to find the chinks in his heart. She leeched into his brain, clawed fingers taking hold. His fingers tingled, and something bled into Sephiroth's vision. Black and red and grey, covering everything. The heat of a fire banking against his face, cackling in his ears.

"I belong to no one," he gritted out, telling himself that he believed it. That his determination and resolve were stronger than her madness. That he wouldn't create another Nibelheim for her. He wouldn't.

He could feel it, pulsing through him. Pressing at his eyeballs, pouring into his body. His vision wavered, Kadaj's silver hair blurring, the sight of the hideous black box filling Sephiroth the core with revulsion. He _hated _her. And all he could see was Jenova, that body sleeping within its glass cage and yet somehow smirking at him. Those dead eyes that seemed to bore through him.

"Least of all you!" Sephiroth snarled, and he didn't think. He didn't allow rationality to pierce the haze that his emotions produced. He simply reacted.

He lifted the Murasame in hands that had regained their strength, and blindly rushed forward. Gravel crunched beneath his feet, his colored hair whipping in the wind. He caught a glimpse of Kadaj's smirk as their blades collided with a resounding clang, strong enough that Sephiroth felt the reverberations in his arm. This boy, this child, was easily a half-foot shorter than him, and yet he held his own against Sephiroth's strength. A true project of Hojo's scientific manipulations. Just like Sephiroth himself, a monster.

Their blades screeched along each other with every inch gained or lost. And Sephiroth's body trembled, shaking violently. He felt his heart trying to escape from the cage of his ribs, thudding loudly in his ears. His breath a sharp series of pants.

Kadaj pushed forward, his blade scraping along the edge of the Murasame. Sephiroth shifted his weight to counter, but Kadaj abruptly pulled back, whirling away. Sephiroth moved to attack, but Kadaj's sword flashed out and Sephiroth was forced to dodge, the edge of the odd blade ripping through the cloth covering his arm.

Sephiroth sucked in a heaving breath and brought up the Murasame, exchanging several loud and jarring blows with Kadaj. How could a child be that strong! It was unnatural.

Just like himself.

Green eyes flashed and Kadaj snarled. "You side with the pathetic humans!" he shouted, voice approaching a Jenova-shriek, the words dancing inside Sephiroth's skull. "Why?"

"I _am_ human," Sephiroth returned, and he damn near believed it.

He was human, Zack had told him again and again. Tseng was sure of it. Denzel looked up to him. Even if he didn't belong, he was human. Even if his father was Euphraim Hojo, he was human. He made his own choices!

Kadaj's hand sliced through the air, leather glove a black blur of madness. "You're better than they! You're my vessel!"

Her presence slithered through him like a black sickness. Trying to take him over just as she had done Kadaj. The boy who was just a boy, and too much like Sephiroth had been for his own comfort. He was trapped by her deceit, unable to break free from Jenova's poison. Did Kadaj want his own life as well? Did he have someone precious waiting for him? Something precious to cling to? Sephiroth didn't know.

He couldn't let her have him.

Sephiroth growled, a bestial sound of rage. "Get out of him!" he demanded, swinging the length of the Murasame in a wide arc, forcing Kadaj to block and backstep quickly, foot nearly overturning on a larger piece of gravel.

The child laughed, regain his balance with a dancing step that was too graceful to come from anyone without Jenova's genes. "He obeys so well, my puppet does," Kadaj said, but it wasn't Kadaj's words. It was Jenova's through and through, his sword catching the dim flash of sunlight. Gleaming off the black box he still carried in one hand.

Anger flashed through Sephiroth, not for himself, but for this boy who had probably only ever wanted to live. Who had only wanted his own life. Who had survived being under Hojo's thumb only to find himself in Jenova's mad embrace. A boy who was so much like him, like looking into his own eyes years and years ago.

Sephiroth growled, his blade snapping through the air. "He's not yours either!" he shouted, fighting for more than himself. Or maybe it was echoes of himself he pulled Murasame for.

Their blades met with a resounding howl, locked together. Sephiroth felt the sweat trickle down his back, his hands shaking violently. Somewhere above him, the sound of whirring blades traveled to his ears, stirring the air. He chanced a glance upwards, catching sight of a WRO helicopter steadily flying their direction.

He didn't need more than one chance to guess who was aboard. And inwardly, Sephiroth cursed their foolishness. This was his fight!

Kadaj noticed as well, his pale lips twisting into a sneer. "Interfering whelps," he snarled and tore away from the bladed deadlock.

He thrust one hand towards the helicopter, Souba still tight in his grip, and the glow of materia quickly surrounded his fingers. Power gathered at the tips, crackling along the edges of his skin, and it didn't Sephiroth long to figure his intentions. The helicopter was a perfect target there in the sky, easy to aim for, easy to destroy.

Sephiroth roared and dove forward, whipping the Murasame through the air, aiming for that oh-so-precious box that Kadaj clung to. The other man twisted to avoid, but Sephiroth was too fast, and he clipped the black object, sending it crashing out of Kadaj's grip. Attention safely diverted from the helicopter, Kadaj let out a cry of rage and lashed out at Sephiroth with the magic he had called, slamming a fistful of fire into the former general's shoulder.

Heat and burning, the odor of scorched fabric and hair and skin. Sephiroth choked on his next breath, momentarily drawing back as he cast Heal after Heal, trying to chase away the lingering sensations of being burned. He heard the whirr of helicopter blades through his desperate casting, and caught a glimpse of the copter as it veered away, hopefully out of the line of danger.

A body slammed into him from the side and Sephiroth went down in a tangle of limbs, the Murasame skittering out of reach. Kadaj was panting, growling like a wounded animal as he threw a vicious punch that Sephiroth merely absorbed, grappling with the boy's too-thin arms. He tried to throw Kadaj off him, but Kadaj was stronger than he appeared, holding on tenaciously.

Fingers dug into his burnt skin and Sephiroth howled, whipping his body to the side and throwing Kadaj from him. He sucked in a breath, pain rippling through him as he peered through a rising dust cloud. Kadaj was slowly rising to his feet, shaking his head as he stepped forward, retrieved black box in hand. A strange feeling of dread flowed over Sephiroth, covering him from head to toe in a wash of shivers.

"I will show you," Kadaj began, his voice a strange growl that seemed more bestial than human. He lifted his hand, swiping the back of it over his chin where a blood trail had leaked from his mouth. "Just how much this child is mine."

Sephiroth backed away, never taking his eyes of the youth as he blindly reached for the Murasame, a feeling like spiders skittering across his skin filling him with apprehension. The fingers in his brain dug in deeper, and he curled his fingers around the Murasame, comforted by the solidity of it.

To his horror, Kadaj opened the black box marked _BIOHAZARD _and actually stuck his fingers inside, pulling out a glowing, throbbing mass of something that Sephiroth would recognize even without eyes or ears. One couldn't mistake the aura that roiled off it, one that stank of Jenova and destruction, of madness and desolation. And Kadaj clutched it close to himself, tossing the empty box away as if it were mere trash now that he had hold of the creature within.

Time slowed, Sephiroth knowing that he couldn't let Kadaj do whatever he planned to do, but unable to stop it. He moved forward, blade raised, but Kadaj looked at him, _smirked at him_, and his eyes flashed malevolence, no trace of the boy within them. No, there was only _**her**_.

And then he pushed that glowing, seething mass of corruption at his own chest. Sephiroth skittered to a stunned halt, his stomach heaving as black tendrils suddenly jutted out from the mass, curling towards Kadaj like black smoke. Pain flickered across his expression and he stumbled, body bowing as he trembled. And laughed, loud and mocking, shrill and shrill, until the sound rattled in Sephiroth's ears.

He swung the Murasame and Kadaj raised his head, looked up at him, and _smiled_. There was a flash and Sephiroth couldn't stop the blow, his sword colliding against something equally sharp and metallic with a shattering ring. And when the light faded, he was left looking into a mirror from several years past, madness banking behind envenomed green eyes, a familiar smirk, and long lengths of silver hair.

He looked at himself.

Sephiroth was so startled he actually backtracked several paces, dragging his sword with him, left gaping at the ghost of madness past. The Murasame dangled useless in his hands as he stared, watching as the person who was once Kadaj but was now somehow _Sephiroth_ lifted a gloved hand, raking it through his hair.

Only it was him before he had been given another chance. Body armor and leather and hair past his waist, still that gleaming silver. The length of the Masamune, sharp and bitter in the dim sunlight. Pale skin, aristocratic features, a Sephiroth that Sephiroth himself had been trying to deny. The one that had bowed to Jenova's every whim, that had killed his very best friend, and destroyed someone else's hometown because he couldn't take the truth. The weak Sephiroth who was somehow always stronger when he lingered in the back of Sephiroth as he was now's mind.

"You... how...?" For the first time in his life, Sephiroth found himself appropriately speechless, unable to manage a single coherent statement.

Other-Sephiroth smirked, Jenova gleaming darkly behind his pure green eyes. "This is who you are meant to be," he said, and Jenova echoed in each word. "Not that pathetic creature you call yourself now. But this. _My _child."

His hands shook; he couldn't make them stop. Not even as he forced himself to raise the Murasame. "What do you want?" Sephiroth demanded, tearing the words out and tossing him at the Other in front of him. "_What do you want?_" His shout echoed around the emptiness of the land, rattling through the hills.

And the Other just smiled at him, wind whipping at his hair. "You should be asking yourself that, _Sephiroth_. We wanted the same things once, didn't we? Since we are the same."

He hated the truth that rattled in the Other's voice and Sephiroth ground his teeth together, pain spiking through his mind. "I'm not--"

"Oh yes, _Sephiroth_, we are."

There was a blur, a flash of light, and then the Other was there, in front of him. Sephiroth barely lifted his own blade in time to block the blow, his limbs feeling like jelly beneath him. Every time he looked at his opponent, it was like fighting a mirror, seeing himself, what Zack and Cloud must have seen back in Nibelheim. He didn't know how to face it.

Clang! Screech. His boots sliding through the ground. The Other laughed mockingly, his voice sounding so much like Sephiroth's own and yet, eerily different.

"Don't you remember?"

Sephiroth groaned, the Other breaking through his guard and ripping a gash through the outside of his right leg. The scent of blood filled the air and he rolled to avoid a random burst of magic, something mixed and deadly.

"We wanted revenge. For our pain. Against those that ignored us. And Mother gave us that power."

His own voice, laced with another's, washed over and through Sephiroth. Accusing and implying, demanding so much. Sephiroth lifted the Murasame again and again, hissing when the Masamune snuck by him once again. He flinched, the blade streaking by his cheek and cutting a thin line through his flesh.

He stumbled and the Other pressed his advantage, driving Sephiroth back with a violent push of magic, straight at Sephiroth's chest. A burst of ferocious wind thrust into him, knocking Sephiroth off his feet. He flew backwards and slammed into the ground, striking his back on several large rocks, hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.

The Murasame tumbled from his hands, skittering a few feet away. She pulsed in the back of his mind, crooning seductively. Reminding him that he was weak as a human. If he'd just take her back, he would have the power again. He would have the strength he needed.

The Other lifted one hand, beckoning to Sephiroth who hacked, struggling to catch a breath. He smelled his own blood as it leaked from his many wounds, limbs lifeless and useless beneath him. And the darkness grew stronger, coaxing him with whispers. Telling him it would be so much easier if he just surrendered.

"Come and join us," the Other purred, circling around Sephiroth who hauled himself up on shaky limbs. "We can destroy everything together, just like before. Bathe the world in blood and fire."

"That's not what I want!" Sephiroth argued, hands clenching against the dirt, rocks poking against his skin, helping to ground him. He wasn't that kind of monster; he wasn't!

"Isn't it?" the Other smirked, his tone cajoling as he dragged the Masamune through the dirt, holding no respect for the powerful weapon. "Deep down inside, can't you just hear Mother's voice. Don't you want the same thing she wants?"

Sephiroth sucked in a breath. "She's _not_ my Mother," he snarled, glaring heatedly at the circling man.

The Other came to a sudden halt, eyes narrowing in disappointment. "Then who is _brother_?" He sneered, whipping the Masamune through the air and forcing Sephiroth to roll to dodge the powerful blade. "That woman who gave you over for testing?"

Sephiroth sprang to his feet, and twisted his body blocking another violent swing with the Murasame. But his injured arm wouldn't hold the blade as well and it only deflected the blow, sending it skittering off to the side. The Other was much faster and he slashed, catching Sephiroth in the side, cutting a thin gash that immediately dripped blood.

The Other snarled, violence and madness banking behind his eyes. "Or would you find family anywhere? In that wretched woman. In the father who performed experiments on his own flesh and blood? Who violated--"

"Shut up!" Sephiroth snarled, the words torn from his throat, his breath a sharp, ragged pant that rattled in his lungs.

And the memories came, flashing one over the other – _pain, oh kami, the pain. Stop, stop, stop. Make it stop. It hurts, he wants to scream. To vomit everywhere. Hands bruising on his hips. Blood slicking down the back of his thighs – _and Sephiroth screamed. "Just shut up! You don't know anything!"

He couldn't find the strength to block the next blow and Sephiroth tumbled downwards, far weaker than his past-version of himself. He sprawled against the ground, agony flashing through his body, more Jenova poison than physical pain. Boots crunched over gravel as the Other approached, a sneer twisting his lips into something no longer human.

"These humans are all the same," the Other hissed, and he kicked Sephiroth, forcing the air out of his body. "Your family, your true family, that is us, _brother_. Not those wretched maggots." The Other crouched over him, hair a silver curtain around him. "You belong with _us." _

The blade came down before Sephiroth could dodge, the Masamune flashing as it drove right through Sephiroth, pinning him to the dirt. He howled, gritting his teeth as the Other twisted the ancient weapon, grinding it in his once undamaged shoulder.

He looked up the length of the blade, his former self on the other end of it, just like he had been in Nibelheim. Sephiroth half expected to _see and feel the flames rising up around him, ash and smoke thick on his tongue. Burn it to the ground. Destroy the monsters. This is all you are. Why didn't anyone __**save me**_?

"I belong to no one," Sephiroth ground out, his fingers locking around the thin blade even as he strained to reach for the Murasame, just a few inches beyond his reach. But the rebuttal felt weak, even to him.

He was falling faster, fading into her. Jenova was within him, smirking with her painted lips, sensing his weaknesses and sliding in through them. Her hands sank into his strings, pulling him like a puppet, gaining entrance through the chinks in his armor caused by memories he'd uselessly tried to abandon.

"I'm not... I..."

He should just give in, give up. Why was he even fighting anymore? What did it matter? She would never let him go. It was a futile struggle.

"I want to..."

What? Live? Protect them? Protect who? Their pain, their sorrow, had been caused by his existence in the first place!

Sephiroth wasn't what he believed himself to be. He wouldn't ever be anything more than her creature, than the soldier ShinRa made him. Than the child Lucrecia had abandoned. Than the creation Hojo had violated and destroyed.

"Sephiroth!"

He froze, eyes wide, recognizing that voice. Zack? He shouldn't be here; he wasn't supposed to be here. Even so, it sounded faraway, through a tunnel, the light on the other end. And a chasm divided them.

"You bastard, don't you dare!"

The Other smirked down at him. "See how much easier it is," he crooned, Jenova and his own voice mingling until they were one. A single siren. "Remember who you are, Sephiroth."

"I know who I am!" he argued, but Sephiroth faltered.

Did he? Did he truly know?

"_She said that I have to learn patience and just wait for you to come back. Because you will if I wait long enough._

Denzel. Why did he think of Denzel now? The boy would be so much better off without him. He deserved a better hero.

"_To be strong just like you. So I can protect everyone. Even you." _

Protect him. It was almost laughable, were it not for the determination he had seen shining in those eyes. Denzel thought Sephiroth someone worthy of him, and were he not a child, Sephiroth would have informed him of the truth long ago.

"And all you have to do is abandon them."

A cold like nothing he had ever felt before cascaded over his body, completely overriding the pain and the heat of his wounds.

"Leave them to their deaths. Let these humans suffer their fate. Let me save you."

Sephiroth went utterly still, body trembling as he enclosed his fingers around the length of the Masamune, feeling the blade cut into his palm. Abandon them? Turn his back on everyone he had bled to defend? On his best friend, his lover, Denzel, the others he had promised Cloud he would protect?

They flashed through his mind, touching briefly, just a blink of memory. Zack's laughter and Denzel's promise. Tseng's understanding gaze, his gentle touches. Aeris' grief. Vincent's sorrow. Yuffie's forgiveness. Could he cast that all aside?

His eyes closed briefly, something swelling inside of him. Something that had nothing to do with Jenova and her madness, and everything to do with himself. His own thoughts and wants and actions, his own decisions.

"_You're coming back, right?" _

He couldn't do it.

Sephiroth's eyes snapped open – more grey than green – and he surged upwards, letting his body slide along the length of the blade despite the pain, his fingers finally closing around the Murasame's hilt. Blood spurted out his back from the wound, but Sephiroth ignored it, dragging his blade back towards him. He was rewarded with the stunned look in the Other's eyes – flexing between stages, green and cat-like, poison and stone.

"I'm not that weak anymore!" Sephiroth shouted, and it actually sounded true to him, like shackles breaking off his body, tumbling to the ground.

He swung the Murasame, catching the Other in the side, driving him backwards. The Other hissed in pain and jerked backwards, taking the Masamune with him. It ripped free from Sephiroth's body, making him feel dizzy from the pain, but Sephiroth endured it. He stumbled to his feet, clinging to the Murasame as though it were his only lifeline. Dizziness knocked at his skull, but he couldn't stop. Not anymore.

"We're not that weak," he argued, and it sounded crazy but the words tumbled from him without any grace. Was he talking about himself? Was it the past? It didn't really matter.

"We don't need anyone to save us!"

He advanced, swinging the Murasame and the Other brought up the Masamune, blocking him uneasily, clutching his wounded side. For the first time, a look of fear flashed in the Other's eyes, only to be washed away by madness. The Other chewed on his lips, until they bled, blocking each successive blow.

The Murasame whistled as it cut through the air, swing after swing, heedless to the jarring pain attacking caused Sephiroth. Over and over, it was blocked by the Masamune, and the Other continued to fall back under Sephiroth's onslaught.

"I won't abandon them!" Sephiroth shouted, and the Murasame whipped through the air, crashing against the Masamune with enough force that it shook his entire body.

Their blades locked for a single, heart-stopping breath and then the Masamune visibly cracked, crumpling beneath the force of Sephiroth's swing. The Murasame broke through the Other's guard as though it were mere paper, driving the Other backwards, boots skidding in gravel. Blood streaked across the long blade, the Other stumbling as he struggled to breath, hacking up red-tinted fluid.

Sephiroth sucked in a breath, and it tasted strangely free and clear, full. "You are nothing more than my useless memories," he said, whipping the blood off the Murasame and sheathing the blade. "I am not the creature I was then."

His hand whipped out, gloved fingers curling in the Other's leather coat and pulling him closer until they were face to face, mere reflections of one another. His other hand slammed against the Other's chest, palm against familiar territory. He called up every Cure and Heal in his arsenal blending them together with a particularly nasty fire, until the magic thrummed in his fingers. And then he promptly shoved the ball of conflicting energies into the Other, thinking to burn the Jenova out of him.

He hoped there was something left of Kadaj to save.

Sephiroth caught acid-green eyes, meeting them evenly, pouring hatred into the Jenova he could see screaming curses behind them. "You are the one that's not needed."

The Other gasped, pain flickering into his expression, and then those eyes focused on Sephiroth, eerily clear. "You will regret it," he gasped, voice blurring, sounding like a mix of Jenova and Kadaj – one crying out in despair, the other begging for guidance. "I won't be forgotten, child. You are..."

Whatever it planned to say died on the end of the next cough, blood flecking his lips. And the Other bowed over, going limp. Sephiroth had the choice to either catch him or let him fall, and he followed through with the former, the body in his hands strangely light.

The shattered hilt of the Masamune dropped to the ground with a clatter as the Other hacked, crumbling. He appeared to melt, a black mist rising around his body and before Sephiroth's astonished eyes, the vision of himself vanished to be replaced by a blood-spattered, pale Kadaj who collapsed against him. Sephiroth struggled to catch the boy, dropping to his knees as the warm body clung to him. Looking up at him with eyes clear of madness, confused and full of regret.

* * *

He felt as if were coming up from air after being buried under tons of water, gasping and gulping for breaths, each like a stolen blessing. It burned in his lungs. Kadaj desperately searched his mind, looking for that dark presence, but he couldn't find it anywhere. She – _that creature –_ was gone.

He peeled open his eyes, and looked right into Brother's eyes, dirty and blood-stained, but filled with concern. "Nii...san." Even his voice came out a pained croak and Kadaj coughed, something shifting wetly inside of him.

He had the vague notion that he was dying. Or maybe he was already dead and his mind had yet to catch up to his body. He certainly didn't feel alive, except for the pain, and he trembled so violently he thought his bones would shake apart.

"Is she gone?" Sephiroth demanded, his words barely piercing through the fog that seemed to surround Kadaj's senses.

He felt disconnected from reality, his body floating in a mire. And he just knew, this was death creeping up on him. Well, all the better then. If she was gone, then he was free. Even if...

"She'll come again," Kadaj answered instead, fearing that it might be the truth. "She always comes. She never stops." _Like a voice in the back of my head, a song I can't forget the words to. _"Never." He coughed, and dully looked at the blood that emerged. He should probably be more alarmed by it.

Kadaj was just resigned.

His eyes closed of their own accord, and he was glad for it. He couldn't see Brother's face anymore, unable to properly interpret the expression there. Sadness and... regret maybe. Kadaj didn't know. He was too tired. Too weak.

Sephiroth said something, but he didn't really hear it. He worried about his brothers, Loz and Yazoo. They couldn't be dead yet. He still felt them out there, somewhere. They were alive.

Magic washed cool and gentle over his skin, something like a Cure only a lot more potent. It thrummed through his body briefly, before fizzling out again. Nothing to be done for the wasting away, as though Geostigma had swallowed him whole.

"My brothers," he murmured, struggling to cling to consciousness. "Don't kill them."

"Kadaj--"

"They were just doing what I – _she_ – wanted."

Cold, so cold. His body breaking down around him. He heard something in the distance, like blades chopping through the air, and the sound of feet approaching. Someone shouted, and his heart thought he recognized the voice. It might have been his name.

Kadaj wished he could have seen Archer one more time. It was a struggle to recall his face, lost to the rest of his slipping memories, but he remembered enough. Well, it was better for Archer to forget him anyways. Those times were just passing dreams. He wanted to believe Sephiroth, but it seemed too good to be true. Human? Not anymore. Not after her poison.

She was still there, a tiny part of her, squirming inside of him. Jenova would grow in power again, she would find a way to wheedle to life and take control. Kadaj was sure of it. Like a parasite, greedily devouring its host, she lingered.

_Kadaj_...

He stirred, the voice calling him to lacking the seductive lilt of Jenova. It was a voice he could not personally recognize, yet it thrummed through him with familiarity. Beckoning and soothing, inviting peace. Washing away the pain that wracked his body, even more than the warmth of the arms that held him.

He opened his eyes, the warmth on his face warm and soothing. He saw Sephiroth, but even more, just past him, he saw someone else. Blond, blue eyes, spiky hair. He knew that face, even if they had never met while he was alive. He knew enough from the images that mo-- Jenova had shown him – _Cloud_ – their forgotten brother.

Cloud watched him as though no one else was there, his eyes the same color as the clearing sky. He held out his hand, just like he had before when Kadaj had encountered him earlier on the road. Something shone in Cloud's gaze, something like forgiveness and Kadaj reached, his gloved hands outstretched towards Cloud.

"Brother..."

And the first drop of rain fell gently on Kadaj's forehead.

* * *

a/n: Just a teensy cliffhanger there. Not too bad of one, I would guess. Initially, I was not proud of this chapter at all. It took forever to write. But on re-reading it for editing purposes, I actually like it. So, I hope you did, too!

The next chapter is coming soon, I promise! It just needs editing.


	23. Interlude 7: This is the Last Time

a/n: What is this? Can it be? *gasp* Another update! Yes, it turns out I'm keeping up my promise to finish out this fic so I'm pretty ahead of myself. With a few extra chapters that I didn't initially plan. Good news for you!

Enjoy the chapter!

Oh, and warning as always, this is unbeta-ed.

**Shattered Children : Interlude Seven**

**This is the Last Time**

**~ Archer/Kadaj ~**

Archer cursed under his breath, shifting his paper, grocery bag as he hurried down the crowded street. Junon was getting worse and worse by the week, as more refugees flooded to the coastal city, having nowhere else to go. Not to mention that the WRO was headquartered there and many sought its funds for aid. Businesses were booming, despite the strife that had recently struck the world. He supposed that the time of year helped as well, as it was the season to be jolly.

Funny how Archer didn't feel an inch of glee.

Technically, he should be celebrating. The Chaos War was over and everyone had emerged mostly intact, save for Cloud. His was a death that they mourned, though Archer couldn't be as upset as the others. He hadn't known the ex-SOLDIER very well, and only briefly made acquaintances with him from before the war had begun, and then a bit during. He wasn't nearly as close as the others had been.

Everything and everyone were returning to normal, to their families and their occupations. Beginning to start anew, or pick up where other relationships had left off. Moving on with their lives, having children, starting families. And where was he? Right where he had been before the war. Both of them.

_Alone_.

It was beginning to become a habit, really.

Archer was a few years shy of forty. Not an old man by the world's standards, but not a young one either. He should have long started a family by now. Had a wife, maybe a couple of children. He had a good job, a steady income. He'd helped saved the world, surely that mattered for something. And even if he did have an ancient demi-goddess occasionally residing in his head, that shouldn't have knocked him out of the running.

Everywhere he looked, everyone around him, they had _someone_. Even Sephiroth, who was as socially efficient as a retarded Skeeskee.

In front of him, a woman slipped on a patch of ice and dropped to one knee, her bag sliding from her hands and spilling half the contents out onto the sidewalk. She cried out in pain, and abruptly cursed as several items rolled across the pavement. The crowd dutifully parted around her, moving to avoid the obstacle. But no one stopped to help.

Archer wasn't that surprised. It seemed simple politeness and courtesy had left Gaia long ago. Shifting his own bags, he paused and crouched to help gather her fallen items. Mostly some fresh fruit and a few wrapped packages.

"Thank you," the woman murmured, shooting him a half-smile as she rubbed thin fingers over her injured knee.

Archer shook his head. "No problem," he responded, handing over a few of the items he had grabbed. "Heels probably aren't a good idea when its this icy out."

"I know." Her cheeks colored sheepishly as she reached for the bag he held. And he was disappointed to find a golden ring circling her finger. "But I don't think running shoes match the ensemble."

"Perhaps not." Archer rose back to his feet, and settled his own bag on his hip, offering down a hand to help her up.

She took it gracefully, with a slight wince as she put her weight on her knee. The crowd surged back into the new free space, crowding Archer against the stranger. Someone jostled him from behind, the edge of something sharp jabbing into his back. And there wasn't even a muttered apology or 'excuse me'. He shouldn't have been so surprised.

He searched the crowded street, finding a bench just behind them. He gently took her elbow, helping her hobble to the seat and lower herself down onto it. The woman set her bags on the empty space beside her, and rubbed her palm over her knee.

Forehead narrowing in concern, Archer peered down at the quickly forming bruise and redness. "Will you be able to walk on it?"

Gingerly placing some weight on the leg, the woman sucked in her breath. "I don't see any other option really." Pale green eyes darkened with discomfort and ensuing pain.

"Hmm." Responding noncommittally, Archer mentally searched the armband he always kept on his upper arm.

In the off chance that he might one day get attacked by someone seeking to kill a hero. Hell, it happened. And Archer wasn't taking any chances. It was a bit obvious to carry the Labrys around, so he settled for a carefully chosen array of materia. Subtle and effective.

He was relieved to find that he had kept the Cure, rather than removing it. Never knew when it might come in handy. Like now, for instance. He summoned up a low-powered Cure and let it spill over his fingers, glowing with the power of the spell.

"Do you mind if I touch it?"

She shook her head, curls swinging to frame her heart-shaped face. "You're the only one who stopped to help. I don't mind."

"Human beings are naturally selfish creatures," Archer responded absentmindedly, moving his fingers forward and lightly gracing her kneecap with them. Almost immediately, the flow of power flew from his touch and into her knee. He could feel it easing away the discomfort and the swelling, reducing the pain.

"Not always," she replied, her eyes watching him curiously as she tipped her head to the side. "You look familiar. Do I know you?"

Archer sighed internally. This was a familiar conversation to him. No one really knew who he was at first sight. It was usually on extended conversation or a longer look that they started to recognize him. Of course, he wasn't as noticeable as say Reeve – the President of the WRO – or Tseng – the new commander of the WRO defense forces – but people knew his face, knew his name.

He offered her a half-smile, letting the last strains of the magic pour from his fingers. "Not personally, ma'am. I don't think I could forget such a lovely face."

Tiamat would have teased him for that, calling him a charmer. Archer really missed her sometimes, despite having only known the lady dragon for a short time. Sometimes, he swore he could still feel her presence inside of him. And the necklace he had made to represent her, he swore that the eyes glinted when there was no light.

"Even so..." She paused, watching him for a moment longer. "You work with the WRO don't you? With President Tuesti?"

He inclined his head, offering her a hand to help her stand and test out his healing skills. "I do. Though admittedly, Reeve does much more work than he allows me to do."

She smiled, rising to her feet. Her mouth opened in surprise as her knee accepted her weight without the slightest tinge of discomfort. "Thank you once again. I find myself in your debt, Mr. Archer, was it?"

"Yes, that would be correct. And don't worry about it." He waved off the offer of repayment. His mother had always taught him to be so polite, to be courteous to others, and he never felt need to abandon her teachings.

Her fingers curled around his hand, squeezing tightly. "It was a good thing you did, Mr. Archer. You and your friends. I don't think we give you enough gratitude. My son lived thanks to the risk you took."

Archer stilled, her heartfelt words washing over him. "We just did what we had to do," he responded, squeezing her fingers back and shifting his bags in his arms. "Be careful out there. It's still slippery."

"I will," she promised, and gave him another grateful smile. "You, too."

He left her there, watching him go with a look on her face that he couldn't quite interpret. A little sad, a little grateful, and a little surprised. Archer shook his head to himself. He didn't receive nearly half as much adulation as the others, so to hear someone thank him personally, well, that was a bit unusual. But not unwanted. He just wished that a thanks hadn't been needed in the first place.

Gaia would have been a lot better off without either war.

He sifted back into the shuffling crowd, letting their conversation wash over him, their packages jostle him. Few cars drove by, Junon mostly a walking city. There really wasn't room for automobiles here. At least, in this part anyways. Archer was glad that his apartment was only a few more streets away. The wind was rising bitter and cold, nipping at the back of his neck.

He reached up, pulling out the hair tie and letting his hair fall free, brushing his shoulders. At least it would help keep his head warm, to an extent. Tucking the tie into his pocket, he paused at an intersection, with the rest of the mob of people, waiting for what little traffic there was to part and give them room to cross.

Laughter attracted his attention, loud and mocking. He thought to ignore it, only to remember that rising populations also meant rising crime. Gangs and punks were becoming an issue in Junon and Reeve's forces were already stretched thin across the world. There simply weren't enough patrolmen to cover the streets at all time, though he was assuredly trying.

As the walk-now sign remained determinedly dark, prompting many strangers around him to complain loudly, Archer glanced over his shoulder, looking around pointedly. Nothing of interest stood out immediately, until he saw a crowd of young men, probably early-twenties, at the mouth of an alley. Flashes of silver hair were visible through the gaps of their tight-knit semi-circle. And the laughter seemed to be coming from their direction.

Amethyst eyes narrowed as Archer turned to get a better look, edging back out of the crowd and towards the young men. Whoever they were bullying was much shorter than they and Archer couldn't make out much more than that, until one finally stepped aside. It was a young woman, her bright green eyes wide and her face pale. She was very obviously trapped within the semi-circle the young men were making, with her back to a darkened alley.

It didn't take a genius to figure out their intentions. Strangers continued to pass by, some staring at what was happening, but nobody thinking to step out, to help out the poor girl. They just kept going, wrapped up in their own lives. Sure five was probably a greater number than one, but Archer had faced worse odds. And he couldn't live with himself if he just walked away, leaving the woman to her fate.

Which meant, inevitably, that he had already decided to interfere.

Sighing to himself, Archer mentally apologized to his groceries – his ice cream was likely to be soup by the time he managed to get home – and pushed his way back out of the crowd. Behind him, the walk-now sign finally clicked on, letting the sea of people continue on their way.

Archer thought to himself that he really needed to see a psychologist about this hero-complex of his.

----

This was getting annoying.

"Such pretty hair. Are ya sure yer not a girl?" the idiot to his right scoffed, reaching out with dirt-encrusted fingers for Kadaj's hair.

He side-stepped the motion, green eyes narrowing into furious slits. His gaze flickered around to the five or so complete fools that surrounded him, wondering how much attention he would attract if he utterly destroyed them. Probably a lot, considering the masses of people just beyond the wall of punks. Behind him, however, the darkness of an alley yawned and Kadaj smirked to himself.

Back there, no one could see him tear them apart.

"What say you and us go play somewhere, hmm?" Another murmured, obviously the ringleader of his merry band of idiots. He reached up, scratching a finger under the band of his lowslung hat. "I can think of a few games you might like."

Kadaj snorted, offended by their comments but knowing better than to get too angry with peons. If they were too stupid to realize the danger they were in, then he wasn't going to be affected by their words. They were mere humans, after all.

He opened his mouth, sure to respond with something appropriately scathing, when a voice suddenly echoed from behind the pack leader. In unison, the five idiots turned and Kadaj was treated to the view of a sixth man, older than these ruffians but still rather youthful in face. Bright amethyst eyes flickered to Kadaj for all of a second before hardening in anger.

"It takes five of you to rob one woman these days?" the man demanded, a bag of something tucked under his arm. He squared his shoulders challengingly, though he stood inches shorter than most of the ruffians.

Kadaj bristled at being called a woman, but he couldn't get a word in edgewise. Idiot One stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the older man as though trying to defend their toy for the evening.

"Just get outta here, old man." He sneered, this thug friends standing up all proud and strong. Hostility was immediately aimed the good Samaritan's direction and Kadaj internally winced. "We don't wanna hafta hurt an innocent bystander."

He was going to get slaughtered.

The interfering stranger didn't even balk at the obvious threat. He laughed at them, sounding derisive in his amusement. "Punks like you are the least of my worries."

Kadaj stepped to the side, trying to see this stranger more clearly. He watched as the man lifted his free hand, gloved against the chill, and snapped his fingers. There was barely a sound thanks to the thick fabric, but when a flame flared at the tip, the reaction from the idiots was instantaneous. Fear mixed with their false bravado, and even the leader faltered for a moment.

"Parlor tricks," he snapped, slashing his hand through the air and firming his stance.

Rolling his eyes, Kadaj was through with dealing with a bunch of idiots. Junon was proving to be as useless a city to make a home as all the others. This was getting beyond ridiculous. He stepped forward, having every intention of making his presence known and knocking out a few of the ruffians.

Until a bolt of lightning zipped through the air, striking one of the punks to Kadaj's left across the shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise as the ruffian grunted, hand rising to the wound as the smell of scorched skin filled the air. Only a flesh wound, but it was a good enough example for the idiots. Three took off running, including the one who had just gotten the shock of his life, disappearing quickly into the surrounding crowd. They were the smarter of the bunch, it seemed.

The leader and his sycophant remained, staring hatefully at Kadaj's intended rescuer. "This isn't over!" he declared in typical punk fashion, shaking his fist at the man before also taking off, though in an opposite direction from his friends.

This left Kadaj alone with the stranger. He raked a hand through his hair, turning his full gaze on the older man who was waving his hand, dismissing the magic he had summoned. Kadaj's eyes narrowed, wondering if he should recognize this person. Not many were able to use materia effectively on Gaia. Only perhaps about ten percent of the population.

"Are you all right?" the stranger asked, his eyes filled with concern as he stepped towards Kadaj, holding up a hand.

He batted it away effectively. "They didn't even touch me," Kadaj retorted, still a bit perturbed that he had been called a woman. "I had it handled."

The man blinked, his face coloring a little as he must have realized his mistake. "Clearly," he responded, with a hint of sarcasm. His head tipped to the side, looking Kadaj over again. "You seem a little young to be wandering these streets alone."

Kadaj bristled internally, trying not to let the man's appraising stare bother him too much. "And you're a bit too old to be taking on a bunch of idiots." He paused, raking his eyes over the dark-haired man who, on second glance, seemed to be familiar. "Have we met?"

Amethyst eyes rolled. "Not personally, no," he responded succinctly, a hint of fatigue in his voice as though this were a question he had fielded several times before. "At least, I don't think so. But you do look like someone I know..."

He snorted. "I doubt anyone you know carries the same name." When the man gave him a look that encouraged him to continue, he gave up the answer without knowing why. "Kadaj," the teenager clarified. "My name's Kadaj."

"You're right," the dark-haired man answered with a faint chuckle, thumbing his chin in consideration. "I haven't heard of you before."

Still convinced he knew this man, Kadaj gave him another evaluating look, when his face suddenly clicked in the boy's mind. "You're the one who's always with the president," he stated suspiciously, wondering if he would be recognized and promptly jailed.

He highly doubted Mr. Tuesti had forgiven him for entrapping his husband that one time, though it appeared that one woman had suffered most of the blame for that encounter. Then again, the only one who had gotten a good look at him had been the red-haired Turk, and he had been in the midst of escape. Not to mention all that chaos with the demi-deities and such that Kadaj had heard about. He and his brothers had been all but forgotten.

The man sighed, shifting his groceries so that he could stick out a hand. "That would be me. Archer Kyle at your service." The introduction was accompanied by a half-grin that, as far as Kadaj could tell, was genuine.

Furrowing his brow, Kadaj gripped Archer's hand, surprised by the strength. For all his appearances of an office geek, the older man was hardly weak. He should have known. Any associate of Brother's would have had to be strong.

He tipped his head to the side, pretending that he only knew as much as the rest of the population. "Archer Kyle, huh? That's kind of backwards, isn't it?" Kadaj questioned, a genuine question. He'd always heard it the other way around. "Compared to the usual, I mean."

Releasing his hand, Archer grinned. "You're one to talk, with a strange name like Kadaj," he retorted, and it was obviously teasing.

It was strange that they could stand here and have a conversation, albeit an odd one, considering the press of people that surrounded them. The chill of the air. The weight of the open sky. Archer could have just as easily excused himself, but he lingered. Why? Kadaj wanted to know.

And why hadn't he left himself? There was something to this stranger, not so unknown anymore, that he couldn't put aside.

Kadaj scowled, pulling fingers through his hair. "At least I'm not an old man picking up young boys," he countered sharply.

The older man stuttered, his eyes widening a fraction in his surprise. And to Kadaj's amusement, a flush of red flooded his cheeks that had nothing to do with the weather. "You were in trouble," he protested. "I thought you were a girl."

"And that really doesn't make it any better," Kadaj retorted, a bit of a smirk pulling at his lips. Teasing this Archer was actually rather amusing. He had the maturity of an adult, but looked years younger than he should and still blushed at his age. An intriguing combination.

Archer's lips twitched, betraying his own amusement with the situation. He couldn't find it in him to be annoyed by the kid. "Well, perhaps next time I should just stick to my own business. And you... you should be heading home. Your parents are probably worried."

Kadaj felt something flip inside of him, and he swallowed down a surge of inexplicable nausea. "My parents are dead," he stated flatly. "And I can't say that I'm sorry for it."

He winced. "I see." Clearing his throat, Archer looked around pointedly. "Is there somewhere I can walk you, then? You really shouldn't be out here by yourself."

Internally Kadaj snorted. He had nothing to worry about. He could take care of himself. But Archer didn't know that. And Kadaj preferred it to stay that way. He needed to coast beneath the radar, not make a spectacle of himself. And for that reason, he nodded warily.

"If you insist," he muttered and gestured vaguely down the street, towards the apartment building a few blocks away where he shared a room with his brothers. "I'm down that way."

Archer smiled, and followed his directions, Kadaj falling into line beside him. "Luckily, we are heading the same way."

"Yeah, lucky," Kadaj repeated.

He really couldn't figure this guy out. Who stopped to help a complete stranger these days? For all that Kadaj could see, the world was largely composed of humans who cared for nothing but themselves and their own greedy, rat race.

"What were you doing out here anyways?" Archer asked, giving him another assessing look. Probably trying to guess his age or something similar.

Though they were about the same height, Kadaj lacking an inch or so, he was definitely slimmer in build than the older man. And he certainly didn't look like he was capable of taking down those five thugs and a dozen more, if necessary. Mother's legacy had gifted him with an even more youthful appearance, and androgynous features. Though if Loz was any indication, once he got older, he would lose some of the softer lines.

Kadaj shrugged, stepping carefully down the street to avoid both the strangers and the streaks of ice that still marred the pavement. "Just had to get out," he explained vaguely, unwilling to go into the details. It was both a truth and a lie and he didn't want to elaborate, especially to someone who was pretty much a stranger to him.

The older man arched one brow. "A little young for wanderlust, aren't you?"

"I'm seventeen," Kadaj snapped, irritated by all the comments referring to his age. "And that's plenty old enough."

The man had no idea, _none_, just what Kadaj had been through. Age was nothing but a number, one that he'd used to count how long he'd been existing. And how long he'd had to suffer under his _father's _demented experiments.

Archer gave him a blank look, clearly not expecting Kadaj's response. Kadaj knew that he looked younger, he didn't need the man to point it out to him.

Adults were the absolute last thing he needed in his life.

-----

The outburst, for really there was no other word for it, had surprised Archer. For everything, Kadaj seemed collected, perhaps even a bit mature for his age. But there was something lingering in his words, a hint of anger and even a deeper emotion. It echoed pain, and something unnameable that Archer couldn't quite put into words.

He immediately felt that he should apologize. He had upset Kadaj, that much was obvious. And there was a faster clip to the boy's – _man's_ – pace than there had been before. His reaction was not unlike Sephiroth's whenever anyone brought up the taboo name of Hojo in his presence.

The fact that Kadaj greatly resembled Sephiroth didn't help matters in the slightest. He was beautiful, just like Sephiroth, though not quite as stoic and cold. Or even half as untouchable. His eyes were hard, like Sephiroth's, but not completely jaded. There was still something of innocence in him, something that hadn't yet been stolen from him. And it bothered Archer that he could even see that Kadaj had suffered in some way.

That hero-complex attacked him once again. It claimed there was something needed saving, if he only stuck his nose in again. Kadaj, however, didn't really look inclined to the help. And really, what could Archer do?

They traveled in silence for several minutes, waiting at a crosswalk and merging with the crowd to the other side of the street, before Archer spoke again.

"You're right," he said quietly, tone apologetic. "If I had been half as mature as you at seventeen, I would have probably saved my father much grief."

Kadaj snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets and lifting his shoulders. "You're an old man," he replied, and a hint of something curved at his lips. "I can't expect you to relate to the younger generation."

It took several seconds for Archer to realize that was a joke and he rolled his eyes, nudging Kadaj with his elbow. He didn't think for one moment that Kadaj had been teasing the entire time. No doubt the teen didn't want him to know how affected he had been by Archer's offhand remark.

"I'm not that old," Archer defended, finding it easy to fall into playful banter. "I haven't even seen a gray hair yet. Not like Reeve."

"You mean the president," Kadaj corrected with a sidelong look. He hunched against a rising breeze, smacking them in the face with the cold. "You guys are close?"

Archer shrugged, twisting his jaw as he tried to recall just how long he'd known Reeve. "Something like that. I've worked with him for years. There are others that probably know him better than me."

"Others," Kadaj repeated, his gaze falling to the pavement as he considered. "Like the ones everyone is saying are heroes. The ones that took down ShinRa and all those demons." He drew to a sudden halt, prompting Archer to stop with him.

He made a noncommittal sound in his throat. "Yeah, heroes." That sense of loneliness welled up again, completely without his permission.

Kadaj's innocent query had reminded him that while he _knew _Reeve and he had once dated Cid and he'd worked with Tseng and Elena, he wasn't really close to anyone. He wasn't even sure he knew Cid as he was now because all he knew was the Cid of many years ago. Before the abandoned space program.

Shaking his head to clear away the sudden onset of gloom, Archer glanced pointedly around them. "Is this it then?" he questioned, looking at the five-story building in front of him, the architecture rather old and ridged. Strange how close it was to his own apartment, not but a stone's throw from the WRO headquarters.

Green eyes were watching him oddly, nearly scrutinizing him, and for a moment, Kadaj appeared years older than his proclaimed seventeen. And he didn't seem to be the wandering teenager he claimed to be.

"Yeah," Kadaj replied, wind blowing silver into his face. "My brothers are waiting for me so I should probably get going." He paused, and seemed to consider before shrugging. "Thanks for the help, I guess."

And then, he was just the teenager again. Reluctantly accepting the help and even more uneager to express gratitude for it. The ageless look was gone from his eyes in the next blink.

Archer shrugged, tucking a strand of his own hair behind his ears. "Anytime. Be careful out there."

He lingered for a second more, feeling as if he should say something else, but then Kadaj turned and headed into his building, climbing up the first few steps to the main double doors. He watched the teen's retreating back and realized, he would probably never see Kadaj again. But he doubted he would ever forget him.

Shaking his head, Archer continued towards his own apartment, hoping that the cold weather was enough to keep his ice cream from turning into complete mush.

In all likelihood, he would never cross paths with Kadaj again. So even if his mind wanted to recall images of those bright green eyes, he would chase them away. Not again. Archer didn't need any more fruitless crushes.

Not this time.

******

a/n: Ah, poor Archer, he is as unknowing as Reeve in _Shattered Boundaries. _For wea ll know there paths will cross again. For our benefit, of course. I hope you enjoyed this peek into their first meeting!

Also, per those added chapters I mentioned, I will be needing to add another interlude and well, I'm all out of ideas. So if there's any specific pairing you want to see, or any question you have about those missing months between _Shattered Dreams _and _Shattered Children_, feel free to make suggestions. My exhausted muses could use the boost! And I'll do my very best to use all of them. I'm interested in knowing what my loyal readers would like to see, so feel free to be honest! PM me if you don't want to leave it in a review.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! It won't be long until the next one! I promise! If I finish another chapter by next Sunday, I'll go ahead and post another chapter of this. Something to look forward to!


	24. Chapter 15: A Bittersweet Requiem

a/n: Yes! Tis another chapter for my faithful readers! I'm zipping right through writing these, just as I had intended. Expect another next week.

Enjoy!

Warnings: self-beta'ed as always, boykisses and embraces, character death

**Shattered Children: Chapter Fifteen**

**A Bittersweet Requiem**

Aeris cooed softly to Midori, her little girl unexpectedly fussy tonight. She rocked the infant in her arms, pacing back and forth across the bedroom floor. Midori had always been sensitive and even Aeris could feel the tension in the air. She'd heard little about the battle since Reeve and Reno had sent Revan with Reis to her. All she knew was from scattered television reports and that wasn't enough.

She worried. About Sephiroth. About Denzel. About Zack. About everyone who composed her family. They were all fighting out there without her. And all she could do was sit at home, hoping and praying that they would be safe. That their deities would protect them. Aeris didn't know if she could handle losing anyone else precious to her.

Midori whined again and Aeris tucked the blankets tighter around her small form. "It's okay, sweetheart," she murmured, though she wasn't even sure of that herself.

No doubt Midori could feel the bloodshed that vibrated throughout Gaia. And if she was anything like her mother, she could hear the Ancient's and the voice of the planet, both vibrating with agony.

Aeris sighed and lowered herself to the bed, sitting down to ease the cramp of muscles in her arm. Midori was growing by the day, and as such, grew heavier. Aeris could swing a heavy staff with the best of them, but holding an infant required a different kind of strength. The bed squeaked noticeably, but Aeris only paid it half a mind.

It was times like these that she really missed Cloud a lot. No doubt he would have been able to hold Midori with ease, with that mako strength he had always hated.

Above her, the sound of water on tiles suddenly pierced the soft quiet. It was raining. Strange, she hadn't heard that it would rain today. Aeris glanced towards the window, finding that it was still bright outside. Clouds hadn't covered the sun. Ah, the strangeness of weather on this planet, never quite the same after the various battles the surface had suffered.

She closed her eyes, rocking Midori in her arms, and listened to the steady rhythm. There was no wind pushing against her shutters, strangely enough, but the gentle fall of the rain was soothing. The sound appeared to be comforting her daughter as well, as Midori gradually stopped making noise and twitching restlessly, only to calm in her arms. A relief.

Through the soft cadence, Aeris heard a footstep, nothing unusual considering that she had opened her home to a few refugees – Reis and Revan. She looked up anyways, just in case either of her guests needed something, only to still in absolute surprise. Jade eyes widened with disbelief, her breath catching in her throat.

"I'm home," Cloud said, a soft smile on his face as he lifted a hand in greeting, looking unchanged for all the months he had been dead.

Aeris rose to her feet, unconsciously squeezing Midori a bit tighter and causing her daughter to complain loudly. "Cloud? How... what...?" Words failed her, as they rarely did, and she felt the tears prickle hotly at the back of her eyes. She begged herself not to lose control, and she begged the gods that this wasn't a dream.

"I don't have long," he answered, stepping into the room and moving towards her. "Just until the rain stops."

She swallowed thickly, confused. "The rain?"

Cloud nodded, pulling her into his arms and Aeris sucked in a breath, his body radiating warmth, his scent unchanged. "The rest of Holy's power, and the final gift of the Ancients. To clean away Jenova's poison."

_Geostigma. _It didn't need to be said aloud. Aeris understood all too well and she was relieved. She didn't know how she was going to handle watching her friends degenerate around her, watching Sephiroth fall apart, unable to help Denzel. And it had hurt when there was nothing her abilities, her connection with the Ancients, could do.

She leaned her head against his chest, relishing in the familiarity and feeling a stab of longing in her heart. "I wish you could stay."

"You know why I can't," he replied, rubbing his hands down her back. "But they let me come so I could see Midori. Just this once."

Aeris pulled back, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, rubbing her fingers over a face she would never forget. He was the Cloud she knew, and yet different. Softer somehow, more confident. As if he were no longer pieces of a scattered past, but whole and hale. Had protecting them mattered that much to him?

"Yes, it did," Cloud answered, as though hearing her unspoken question, and he lowered his head, slanting his lips over hers.

The reality of the moment crashed over her when their mouths touched and Aeris sighed into the sweet kiss, wishing that it wasn't for this scattered bit of time alone. It would be harder to return to a life of loneliness after this, yet, she wouldn't abandon the chance either. She couldn't.

Her hand slipped down to cradle Midori and Cloud drew back from the kiss, turning his gaze towards their daughter. His features softened even further, love entering his eyes. He lifted a hesitant hand, gently touching his fingers over the crown of Midori's head.

"She's beautiful," he murmured, in a voice thick with emotion. "She looks just like you."

Heart clenching, Aeris swallowed down rising tears. "But she has your eyes," Aeris corrected with a quiet laugh, even as Midori opened her eyes, showcasing her beautiful heterochromatic irises.

"And your smile," Cloud commented even as Midori seemed to grin up at him, hands reaching.

Aeris took that as an invitation and pushed Midori into her husband's arms, though it was clear Cloud was hesitant to hold the infant. Likely out of fear of dropping her more than anything else. She was precious to the both of them. But Aeris silently directed him on where to place his hands and soon Cloud was cradling her properly.

She watched as Cloud gazed adoringly at their daughter, gently tracing her features. Midori cooed in his arms, reaching up to grasp his finger tightly.

Aeris smiled. "She knows you, even if she has never met you."

"Then she's definitely her mother's daughter," Cloud returned amusedly, sadness crossing his expression. "I wish I could stay. To see her grow. She'll be beautiful. And strong."

She stepped closer to husband and daughter, her palm on Midori's head as she looked up at her husband. "If not for you, Midori and I both might not be here today."

"Don't say it like that," Cloud said softly, looking pained. "I don't regret that choice."

"That's fine. Because I'd do it for you. If we had only been stronger--"

He shook his head, cutting her off with a sharp glance. "No, Aeris, it was what I wanted to do. Trust me on this. Knowing you two are safe was the only thing that kept the anger and bitterness away."

Aeris was not satisfied. She wanted her husband back, even if she understood why it couldn't happen. It didn't seem fair to her, but then, life had proven itself time and time again to lack equity. What the planet had suffered was a prime example. She bit back a sigh, feeling her heart clench.

And above them, the sound of the rain gradually trickled away, until it was only a faint drizzle, and even that lightening. The short moment had drifted into nothingness and Cloud kissed Midori on the forehead, returning his daughter to her mother's arms. She didn't want to say goodbye, and Midori didn't either, seeming to sense the rising emotions. She fidgeted again, whimpering audibly.

"Time's up," Cloud said, his boyish smile lacking in cheer. "Though I guess we should be grateful we had this much, huh?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, not wanting to say goodbye for a second time. The first had been hard enough, and even then it had been against her will. She hadn't thought rationally back then, but she hadn't wanted to leave Cloud. Hephaestion had made that choice for her – the better in the end – but once again, she had no choice in letting him leave her. The thought that the world seemed to despise their happiness crossed her mind, before she shook away the petty consideration. There were others who had suffered just as much, if not more.

Even as Aeris looked, however, she could see Cloud fading away on the edges, as though he really were just a spirit here to visit. And to think, she had dared deny his death even if only briefly.

"You're leaving me again," she said, and if it came out a bit broken, neither of them spoke a word about it. "It's not--"

He kissed her, his lips tasting like light, cutting off her childish statement. "No, it's not," Cloud replied against her mouth. "I love you both. Remember that."

Aeris clutched Midori to her, feeling as if her heart was breaking all over again. This was almost too cruel. "And we love you."

She last saw Cloud smile before he faded completely from her eyes, in perfect tune with the last raindrop falling. Silence swept through her ears and Aeris couldn't stop the tears that slipped from her eyes. She dropped back onto the bed, holding her daughter close to her, Midori seeming to sense her mother's distress.

It hurt. By the gods, it hurt so much.

---

"It's rainin' again," Cid commented, grunting as he hauled the unconscious Loz onto the back of his motorcycle. The boy was heavy as hell and his lover wasn't doing a damn thing to help.

Beside him, Vincent gazed up into the sky, one hand out to catch the soft, cool droplets. "Something has happened," he murmured, even more certain as an unexpected tingle raced through his body, easing the flashes of pain that rippled across his skin.

There was another grunt as Reno hefted Yazoo from his shoulder to the back of his bike, the young man bruised but otherwise alive. And it had not been easy. "What makes ya say that, yo?" he asked, looking in desperate need of a cigarette, much like Cid.

Vincent shook his head, holstering his gun. "I can't hear her anymore."

"Her?"

"Jenova," Vincent clarified, casually reaching for his cloak and shucking it off, rolling up the sleeves of his mangled left hand to the surprise of both men. It was well-known that Vincent didn't like baring himself in public. But if his suspicions held true...

And they did. Before his very eyes, the malignant poison of the Geostigma seemed to evaporate from his skin with every tap of rain, rising up in black tendrils only to vanish. Vincent clenched and flexed his fingers, surprised at their returned mobility.

"Her presence is gone."

"Holy shit," Cid breathed, suddenly crowding close and grabbing Vincent's arm, running his fingers carefully over the vanishing bruise. "What the hell...?"

Vincent wished he had the answers, but not even he could explain this. He tilted his head back, grey eyes searching the blue sky from which the rain inexplicably fell. Somehow, he thought that the planet had something to do with this. The planet, the Ancients... Cloud. Why he felt the blond's presence, he wasn't sure. But Vincent had a sense that somehow, Cloud was involved.

He closed his eyes, letting the rain streak down his face, into his hair. Letting it trickle across his skin, cool and soothing, soaking his clothes. Tickling at his lower back where the dark, garish Geostigma had sunk into his skin, frightening Cid more and more each day. Vincent couldn't see it, but he knew that the bruise was turning to ash, just like the one on his wrist.

"That's just a bit freaky," Reno muttered, and Vincent glanced at him, watching as he rubbed fingers over a mark on the side of his neck, one that his long hair had been hiding.

He'd nearly forgotten that Reno suffered from Geostigma as well, though the extent of his infection had not been nearly as advanced. It had touched so many of them.

"Why's this happenin'?" the Turk wondered aloud, speaking for Vincent and Cid both.

"Who cares?" Cid retorted, looking as if he wanted to jump Vincent then and there in the street out of sheer joy alone. "It's getting rid of the damned poison. That's all I care about."

The sound of Reno's phone ringing broke through the lingering noise of rain falling, streaking down their skin and clothes. Vincent looked beyond Cid's subtle groping disguised as examination as the Turk answered the cell, bringing it up to his ears. His grin split his face, the caller obviously someone he wanted to hear from.

"Hey, babe. Two out of three are bound and secured," Reno answered with that famous lazy drawl and half-evident swagger as he moved back towards his bike. "And the healin' rain took care of the rest. Just waiting on--"

His words abruptly ended, filling the air with silence. Even Cid noticed, his eyes directed towards the Turk.

"_What?" _

Vincent didn't like the tone Reno's voice had suddenly taken – a mixture of horror and surprise. Utter disbelief, mixed with pain. It didn't help that the Turk had abruptly paled, making the tattoos on his cheeks stand out starkly against his skin. Clearly, it wasn't good news, and Vincent unconsciously drew closer to Cid, who's expression had darkened as well.

They listened, unrepentant, to one side of the conversation.

"I..." Reno lifted a frustrated hand, roughly raking it through his hair. "Yeah, we'll be right there. I promise."

Shoulders slumping, Reno ended the call. His hand dropped to his side, the cell phone dangling loosely. Vincent's uneasy feeling grew until he was certain the information would only sadden them.

"Well," Cid prompted when the moment stretched longer than his lack of patience suited, and displaying his usual lack of tact. "What is it?"

"They found Elena and Marlene," Reno answered without turning, scraping a hand down his face and drawing in a slow, unsteady breath. "They were crushed by a building when that summon attacked."

Vincent felt something squeezing his chest, pushing on his lungs. It twittered nervously in his belly, and he knew that if the news affected him that greatly, it must have rattled through Reno's emotions like a heated blade.

Beside him, Cid cursed lowly, his face darkening with anger. Blue eyes darted towards their captives in an instant, hardening resolutely. "Then what the hell are we keepin' these brats for?" He jerked a thumb towards the unconscious brothers. "We should just get rid of them."

Reno's hand clenched around his PHS, making the plastic creak ominously. "If it were up to me, we would," he answered, and turned, his eyes red but his face dry. "But it's not."

"Reeve wants them alive," Vincent realized aloud, having half-suspected that for himself. Though what the president had planned, Vincent could only guess. It became difficult for him to fully believe one way or the other, only able to think of Elena and Marlene gone to them in a flash.

Not only that, but Sephiroth preferred that the brothers not be killed as well. Perhaps it was because he saw himself in them. Maybe Sephiroth thought he could save them, just as someone had tried to save him.

Vincent wondered, in that moment, how Sephiroth fared against Kadaj. Obviously, something had happened otherwise Vincent wouldn't have felt Jenova vanishing, but what exactly? Concern rippled through him.

Cid snorted, lifting a hand to his goggles and then dropping it abortively when he remembered that he didn't carry cigarettes anymore. "Reeve and his damn hero complex," he muttered, displeased but letting the matter slide for now. "Then let's go before either of these brats wake up."

"You do that," Vincent replied, knowing he was about to give his lover yet another reason to curse. "I"m going to find Sephiroth."

Before Cid or Reno could protest – there was not room for him on either of their bikes anyways – Vincent stepped back and melted into his Galian form. Bones and sinew shifting with minimal pain, talons sprouting from his fingers, fur spreading dark and full over him. Power flooded through his body, his senses becoming more attune, and all of this without the annoying cackle of demonic laughter in the back of his mind.

Whatever Kami had done before giving him the black materia had eased the transformation process. He rarely – if ever – suffered from the pain of it and the demi-deities didn't speak to him. He finally felt as if is body was his own, completely under his control.

Cid's face was a mask of annoyance, prompting Vincent to take a massive leap to the nearest rooftop. He was sure he would hear it from the irate pilot later – Cid still didn't much like him leaving off on his own. But Vincent was not to be held back, and soon his lover would come to understand that.

He leapt to the next building, following the lines of the streetway and relying on his intuition to guide him. Sephiroth and Kadaj had been heading out of Junon, towards the road to Fort Condor. If he hurried, he might find them.

He wondered what had become of the youngest brother, and a part of him worried for Sephiroth. The same part that still wavered in confusion. Was Sephiroth his son? Was he not? It didn't really matter. He was Lucrecia's child and akin to Vincent in that he was Hojo's chewtoy. For that reason alone, Vincent worried.

He had to see for himself.

---

"Kadaj!"

The boy went limp in Sephiroth's arms, the lifted hand dropping back to his side as his eyes fluttered closed. He had only murmured one thing before falling into unconsciousness. Alarmed, Sephiroth shook him, fearing another death on his conscience. He hadn't wanted to kill the boy. He had wanted to save him. Had he failed that, too?

Something fell onto Kadaj's forehead, clear as it streaked down his face. Rain? Sephiroth looked up, another droplet plopping right onto his cheek. Cool and restoring, slithering under his clothes and over his body. He could hear it pinging across the ground, falling from an endless blue sky. Sephiroth half-expected to see Cloud somewhere around him as before, but no, nothing was there.

Why was it raining then?

He closed his eyes, letting it fall softly against him. It trickled over Kadaj's face as well, though the younger man didn't stir, feeling lifeless in Sephiroth's arms. To him, the rain felt too much like cold tears tracking down his cheeks. Was death truly the only escape for them?

He felt it then, a swell of power trickling over him and through his senses. Nothing but pure magic, growing by the minute. Sephiroth glanced down at Kadaj's slack expression, and found that the boy's body had taken on the defining glow of materia in use, despite his unconscious state. A gentle luminescence surrounded him.

Not a good sign.

Kadaj didn't move as Sephiroth checked him for accessories or secondary weapons. The boy wore none and his sword was in shattered pieces scattered across the ground. Where had he equipped the materia? What medium had he used? Magic required an intermediary unless...

Sephiroth shook his head. No, it was supposed to be impossible. Not even he had been capable of taking the materia directly into his body, not even with his massive levels of Jenova and mako. It was the one experiment Hojo had failed to successfully complete amid numerous other achievements.

But that was years ago, a rational voice whispered. Who knew what madness Hojo had perfected in that short time. And Kadaj – despite being very similar to him – was obviously quite different. More powerful in some ways. The impossible had become probable and Sephiroth shuddered to think of what he must have suffered at Hojo's hands.

Swallowing thickly, Sephiroth feared he had an idea where to look. At least, if Kadaj's twitching fingers were anything to go by. He peeled the leather from Kadak's right hand, and pushed up the length of the dark sleeve. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught sight of varying shades of color glowing beneath pale skin.

The materia – there had to be at least a dozen of them – radiated color to the same rhythm as Kadaj's heart. And grew brighter with each passing moment, a startling blend of red and green, blue and purple, yellow like the sun encompassing them all. Just what had the boy shoved into his body? His arm felt unnaturally hot to the touch, and Sephiroth couldn't identify the myriad materia within their fleshy prison.

In his unconscious state, Kadaj couldn't control them, and it became more apparent with each passing moment. The materia had activated themselves somehow, trying to cast when there was no hand to guide them. It wouldn't be long before the power summoned would be too much for his body to contain.

It didn't take a genius to figure what would happen next – an explosion of Ultima magnitude. And Sephiroth didn't know how to stop it. He couldn't remove the materia as it was as much a part of Kadaj's body as his hair or eyes. Only Kadaj could take them out.

Sephiroth grasped Kadaj's face in one hand, turning it towards him. "Kadaj!" he called out loudly, giving the boy a light shake. "Kadaj!"

He didn't stir, didn't make a sound, his face ashen and lips bloodless. Kadaj's heartbeat had slowed, his breathing nearly nonexistent. And time was running out.

Feet pounded across the dirt, crunching over gravel.

"Sephiroth!"

"Kadaj!"

Archer and Tseng both, with Zack not far behind them, having finally caught up. The terrain here was difficult for landing a helicopter, thus the delay. Sephiroth wished they had been delayed further. They needed to be away from here. Far away. He didn't know how large the explosion would be, and Sephiroth couldn't stop it. Couldn't protect them. Urgency clenched in his gut.

"Stay back!" he shouted, half rising from his kneeling position before falling back, unwilling to lose his grip on Kadaj. He thought that if he let go, he would be doing more than letting Kadaj die. Emotions flooded through Sephiroth, surprising himself with the intensity of them.

The three men skidded to an abrupt stop, their instincts recognizing the command in his tone. They were men of the military through and through and never had Sephiroth been more grateful for that then in that moment.

The press of magic in the air grew until it was stifling. Electricity trickled across his skin, light at first, and then intensifying. Sephiroth winced, the feeling like a thousand needles dancing over him.

Zack took a step forward, but at a look from Sephiroth, he didn't move again. Still, it was obvious that he didn't quite know what to do, his blue eyes surveying the scene of a recent battle, Sephiroth himself still covered in numerous wounds.

"Sephiroth, what's going on?"

He shook his head, mentally searching his materia stores for a Shield, a Barrier, anything to contain the blast. There was no time to explain, no time for anything. He could feel the materia swelling around him, the varying energies crackling one against each other, growing in strength. He could sense the tension between each small orb and blood rushed through Sephiroth's ears. His heart pumped but he couldn't seem to abandon Kadaj. He wouldn't. They were too much alike.

His friends, his companions, must have sensed his intent because Tseng shouted as Archer darted forward, a desperate edge in his violet eyes.

Sephiroth didn't hesitate, throwing up the strongest shield in his arsenal. It rippled between them, a thick barrier that wouldn't easily shatter. Archer beat his fists uselessly against it, his gaze for Kadaj alone. Zack didn't understand and Sephiroth met Tseng's eyes in silent apology, even as the magic crackled around him.

It spat fire and spilled ice across his legs. Wind tore through the confined space, whipping at Sephiroth's hair. Electricity danced through the air. The very earth trembled. And then Sephiroth's world went white.

---

He floated, surrounded by warmth, soft emotions. Sephiroth wasn't sure what to do with such peace. He wanted to open his eyes, but they wouldn't budge. It didn't seem so bad, he reasoned. It smelled fresh and clean here, like new spring, or early morning out in Icicle before....

Well, best not to think about that. He felt sleep tugging at him, luring him into its tender embrace, and something wisplike drifted across his outflung fingers. Gently calling, telling him to rest. It was okay, it said, for him to sleep.

"Sephiroth." A voice, thick with amusement, called to him.

He thought he recognized that voice.

His eyes snapped open, surprisingly easy this time, and Sephiroth found that he wasn't floating, not anymore. In fact, he was somewhere familiar. A field of flowers, green and white scattered all around him. A sky floating above, so perilously blue that he thought he would drown in it. The same blue as a certain pair of eyes that sparkled down on him mischievously.

"What are you doing here?" Cloud asked, spiky hair waving in a light breeze, sun shining right behind him in a halo.

It had to be a dream.

"I..." Speechless yet again, Sephiroth looked around. Just an empty field, as far as the eyes could see. Flowers dancing to their own beat.

His eyes fell to himself. No battle clothes, no weapon, injuries gone. He fingered hair that had returned to its normal silver, touched his cheek where the gash caused by the Masamune had vanished.

"Am I dead?"

Cloud just smiled at him, and honestly, Sephiroth couldn't remember seeing that sort of soft smile from Cloud before. "Not yet. You're a little too early for that."

"Early?"

"To be here."

Cloud wasn't making any sense, but then, when had any of them relied on logic. Both he and Cloud shared that, the inability to cling to sanity. And then Sephiroth remembered, and the shame promptly colored his cheeks. He looked away, to the safety of the fields.

"I should be here," he returned, fingers free of scars and tattoos reaching for a flower, gently tapping over unmarred white petals. "I never should have been given the second chance. It should be yours."

"We're not the ones to decide that," Cloud informed him, sounding far too wise for it to be Cloud, but someone else merely taking Cloud's form. "Don't you think you've suffered enough?"

"Don't you?" Sephiroth retorted, and the feeling returned, closing on his chest, squeezing his lungs. It banked behind his eyelids. "You have a family left behind. A wife and a daughter. You should be with them."

Cloud's shadow fell over him, blocking the sun, forcing Sephiroth to look at him. "And what of the things you've left behind? The people who need you."

He resisted the urge to snort. Cloud didn't deserve such crude behavior. Sephiroth was under no illusions. Even those who cared would be better off without him.

"Especially now, Sephiroth."

He stilled at the sound of the familiar voice that was most definitely not Cloud. Sephiroth slipped his gaze past the blond, something squeezing his throat at the sight of the two that approached, neither of them strangers.

"Mr. Sephiroth!" Little arms immediately circled his waist, Marlene squeezing him tightly, looking bright and cheerful in her flowery sun-dress, her hair in loose falls over her shoulders.

"Marlene?" He couldn't hide the shock or the despair in his reaction. "Why are you here? What happened?"

Elena lifted a hand, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It's not your fault," she answered instead, looking radiant in a dress of her own, something that Sephiroth had never seen her wearing before. "So don't go thinking it is, or I might have to hurt you."

"I'm sorry," Marlene murmured, looking up at Sephiroth with glimmering brown eyes. "I shouldn't have run away. Please don't be mad."

His ungloved hand landed on her head, stroking back her hair. "I'm not angry," Sephiroth reassured, the grief rising thickly in his chest. "I promise."

Their presence here could only mean one thing. That they, like him, had perished in that battle. And the thought made something go cold inside of him. Elena said not to think of it as his fault, but how could he not?

He looked to Cloud, accusation behind his eyes. "And you say that I am the one who doesn't belong here? What kind of justice is this?"

"If you don't return, who will be there for Zack? For Tseng?" Elena demanded, capturing his attention, her voice lacking the anger he would have expected. "Who will protect those boys when the others want blood?"

"Boys?" Confused, Sephiroth could only glance from one adult to the other as Marlene finally released her clinging hold on him, grabbing his hand instead.

The little girl squeezed his fingers. "It's not their fault," Marlene urged passionately. "So don't hate them, Mr. Sephiroth. They just wanted to be loved like anyone else. And they need someone to protect them."

"I don't--"

"Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz," Elena clarified, taking Marlene's hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. Marlene drew to her side, clinging to her sundress, the look in her eyes full of unimaginable sorrow. "Those boys have no one but you."

Sephiroth reeled, bewildered by their request. "But... it is their fault, isn't it? All of this, you being here, shouldn't you _hate _them?"

Unexpectedly, it was Marlene who answered, her words full of kindness. "You didn't hear him, Mr. Sephiroth. You don't know what hurts Kadaj. But I did. He was trying so hard, just like you. And he just needed some help, someone to be there for him."

Her passion seeped into his senses, chasing away lingering feelings of doubt in himself. Sephiroth had wanted to help them, the three brothers, and had worried that it would feel like a betrayal to his friends, the people who had supported him. But then, it would seem like betraying himself if he abandoned the brothers to their fate.

"We want you to remember who your real family is," Cloud inserted softly, the three of them standing there and resembling something holy and without taint. "Not defined by blood or birth, but by the connections you share."

Once again, Cloud didn't sound like Cloud at all. But someone else. Someone wiser and more knowledgeable, untouched by the scars of life. He looked like Cloud all the same, and Sephiroth found himself wanting to believe, here in this imaginary sanctuary. Here in this promised land.

Marlene looked up at him, innocence in her eyes. "So don't worry about us. Okay? I'm not alone. And Cloud isn't and Elena isn't, because we're here together. Just one thing though?"

Sephiroth felt something clench inside of him, and he swallowed it down, kneeling so that he could look the little girl in the eyes. Despite her words, he couldn't help the guilt. It washed over and through him, bathing him in regret. So many things he could have done different, so many ways he should have protected her.

"Anything," he replied, because he couldn't consider himself a man if he couldn't follow through with whatever her last request was.

She smiled at him, practically sparkling. "Make Mr. Tseng happy, okay? He deserves to smile."

Sephiroth lay a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. "I will do my utmost best. I care for him as well."

Relief and joy filled the young girl's eyes, nearly beaming at him. "That's all I wanted. Thanks, Mr. Sephiroth! And you be happy, too. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say," And he tried a smile, but it was thin at best. Heat banked behind his eyes, but he blinked it back, wishing there was something more he could do.

Elena sighed. "All right, brat. Time's short so let me speak to Sephiroth for a minute," she said, her words causing Sephiroth to stand and catch her eyes, brown glistening with unshed tears. Trying to be strong.

"You can't leave him behind," Sephiroth said quietly, thinking that it just wasn't fair. Not at all. He wasn't blind. He knew of the feelings between his best friend and Elena.

And where she had told herself she wouldn't weep, Elena couldn't help the tear that tracked down her cheeks. "I never told him I loved him. At least, not honestly," she whispered back, fingers tightening around Marlene's hand briefly. "We never... there was always someone else we had to watch out for." She paused, taking a breath. "It was foolish, wasn't it? For two people like us to always believe we would have a tomorrow?"

"Elena..."

She shook her head, swiping the back of her free hand over her eyes and wiping away the few tears that had escaped. "This time, I think it's Zack that will need you, Sephiroth. Zack and Tseng both. I'm counting on you to take care of them."

"I can barely take care of myself."

"I think you are stronger than you give yourself credit." Elena tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear, a light wind rising and stirring all around them, sweet and warm. All too comfortable, making Sephiroth want to stay. "And tell him... tell him I would have stayed. And that it's okay."

Sephiroth couldn't take it anymore, his hands clenching into fists. "This is what you call fair?" he demanded, speaking to Cloud and Elena, speaking to this place around them and whatever deity decided that he or she governed it. "It's not right! It's not--"

"Don't you think it's time you forgive yourself?" Cloud interrupted, his eyes holding so much knowledge, so much familiarity. As if he understood Sephiroth's plight. "You've bled for us for two years, even now willing to give your last. Isn't it enough?"

Speechless, Sephiroth wasn't sure how to respond. Two years? It wasn't nearly enough! At least, not to his guilty eyes. In less than that he had managed to ruin the lives of so many people. He could give his life a thousand times over and it would never be enough. That sort of stain could not be so easily erased.

Cloud stepped forward, until he was a bare step in front of Sephiroth, easily within reaching distance. "We forgave you a long time ago. I think it's time you just let go and wake up."

His surroundings were already blurring on the edges, the sweet scent of the flowers slowly vanishing, the sun not as warm. Just as before when he'd been in that dreamlike place and he hadn't been able to feel any of the sensations, he was numb to them now. As if he weren't truly here, but only dreaming of it. He was being rejected again.

"You're not for this place," Cloud continued, regardless of Sephiroth's willingness to accept it. Elena and Marlene were smiling at him, and even the look in Cloud's eyes was a soft sort of sadness. "But don't worry, you'll be back. We all will. So go, Sephiroth. People are waiting for you. Don't make them grieve any more than they have to."

He lifted a hand, and Sephiroth wanted to back away from it. But his feet were glued to the ground beneath him, they wouldn't obey his commands. He could only watch as Cloud gave him what seemed to be a gentle push, his palm heavy against Sephiroth's chest. He fell backwards and landed on nothing but empty air, staring up at a blue, blue sky that slowly grew farther away.

---

Sephiroth woke to darkness, staring at the digital readout on a clock. It was three in the morning, the date unknown. Light filtered from beneath the door, loaning a dim glow to the room that helped identify his surroundings. Home. He was home.

And strangely warm.

Feeling as if he hadn't moved in weeks, Sephiroth slowly turned over, finding Tseng curled up in the bed next to him. The Wutaiian was fast asleep, his hair loose around his face, his breathing deep and even. That, at least, explained the warmth. Sephiroth lifted a hand, but fell short of actually touching his lover, pulling it back towards himself.

Elena was dead. Marlene was gone. He'd left Cloud behind.

He covered his face, trying to calm himself through stuttering, uneven breaths. Sephiroth felt stretched, worn incredibly thin. Jenova was gone, or at least it seemed so. He should celebrate. But at what cost? Yet again, his own struggles had caused sorrow to others.

And they were still gone.

He chewed on his bottom lip, feeling the heat behind his eyes. He was supposed to be stronger than this. Sephiroth struggled to remember the emotionless bastard Hojo had created, but he had been thoroughly decimated by his relationships with his friends in the past months. He couldn't seem to call on that coldness anymore.

Sephiroth turned, fully intending to roll over and off the bed, otherwise his distress would disturb Tseng, who so obviously needed the rest. Even Sephiroth could see the lines of fatigue and stress in his lover's face. But a hand shot out of the darkness, curling around his upper arm and stopping him from leaving.

He glanced over his shoulder, finding Tseng looking at him, his gaze unreadable. He didn't say anything, and Sephiroth didn't either, feeling a part of himself crumbling. The urge to escape was strong, but the urge to stay was even stronger and Sephiroth abandoned his intentions to leave, allowing Tseng to pull him into a warm embrace. He was larger than the Turk, but somehow, that didn't seem to matter.

He pressed his face into Tseng's throat, could smell the other man's sweat and cologne, so familiar to him. And his fingers clenched in Tseng's shirt, a bevy of emotions and thoughts crashing over and through him. Sephiroth was certain that his body shook, though he would deny it aloud. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

"It's not your fault," Tseng murmured quietly, Sephiroth able to feel the vibration of the Turk's words against his skin.

He would have wondered how Tseng knew his thoughts, only to remember the gift his lover still tried to deny. Sephiroth didn't answer, refusing to agree or disagree. He wanted to believe Tseng, but Sephiroth knew the truth. He knew where to place the blame.

He kept quiet, allowing himself to bathe in Tseng's kindness, to curl up next to his lover and simply soak up the comfort. Just this once, he promised himself. He would escape from reality for this instance, until tomorrow came and he would have to face everything. For now, however, there was this moment.

* * *

a/n: Another chapter completed for your perusal! I have mixed feelings about this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it. I think the following chapters are much, much better.

As I am closer to the end, I have a clearer picture of how much longer it will be: five more chapters, two more interludes, and an epilogue. And don't worry, I put some smut in there for you. Promise!

I'm still interested in your thoughts on the interlude. I've come up with a couple scenes, but there's room for a couple more. Thanks!


	25. Chapter 16: Perfect Dirge

a/n: Another chapter! Huzzah! I'm determined to have this sucker completed and all chapters posted by the end of September. Why you ask? Because -- I just realized -- that September marks the four-year anniversary of the Shattered Arc. Yep. Shattered Ice was begun in September 2005 and I think it'll be wonderful if I can end it in the same month.

So, I will update every two/three days. Expect another update on the 12th.

Enjoy!

Warnings: language, spoilers, mentions of character death, boykisses, limeish stuff

**Shattered Children**

**Chapter Sixteen: Perfect Dirge**

The fingers trailing through his hair should have felt soothing, but Sephiroth couldn't relax. He could still see their faces so clearly in his mind, sorrowful and forgiving. Telling him he couldn't stay, that he was needed here for some reason. The battle had long ended, and Sephiroth was sure the aftermath needed to be handled.

Junon lay in shambles no doubt, and there were heaps of rubble to be searched for the injured or deceased. Elena and Marlene were gone, and Barret was going to be furious, always worse in his grief. So many things needed to be dealt with. He couldn't afford to linger here in this comfort.

Tseng must have sensed his sudden restlessness because the slow touch ceased, the Turk commander breathing out a soft sigh. "I don't have any answers either," he said into the silence of the room. "Whatever that was knocked me out too, and I regained consciousness after you."

Did he know about Elena and Marlene, Sephiroth wondered? In the madness that was the battle, everyone running in different directions for different objections, did Tseng know?

How long had passed? The time told him nothing without a reference to a date. How long had he lingered in that other world, unwilling to leave but not allowed to stay. His heart gave a careful pang at that. There was too much for him here to be ready to die, yet Sephiroth wasn't sure he deserved this gift.

"I had a dream," Sephiroth said quietly, feeling like he had to tell someone and Tseng was the best candidate right now. "Or maybe it was real. I don't honestly know.

Behind him, Tseng shifted, pulling his body up until he leaned against the headboard. Sephiroth rolled to face him, wincing as he turned on his injured shoulder. Strangely, it wasn't healing as fast as it usually would. Interesting.

"A dream?" Tseng prompted.

He lifted his arm, covering his eyes with it, trying to recall the details as though he would ever forget. Warm air over his face. Spring in the air. The scent of flowers.

"Cloud was there," Sephiroth answered, remembering the heat of the sun on his face. The blue of the sky. "He said I didn't belong there."

"Where?"

Sephiroth fell silent, considering the answer. "I don't know. The promised land maybe? He said I had to come back and then..." He trailed off, uncertain if he should talk about the other visitors. He didn't know what Tseng's reaction would be.

Tseng shifted and the headboard squeaked noisily, the bed in dire need of replacement. Sephiroth had never bothered much about it. He rarely slept in it after all. Perhaps it was time he started.

"Elena and Marlene.... they were there, too."

His words fell into a stunned silence and Sephiroth lowered his arm, glancing at his lover. Tseng had drawn absolutely still, his face expressionless. He paused, took a breath, and obviously struggled to draw the right words.

"I had a feeling," Tseng began, hand clenching as he draped it over his knee, trying to control himself in ways that Sephiroth understood all too well. "I had an idea but..."

"I want to say that it was just a dream," Sephiroth continued, something squeezing inside of his chest, trying to steal his breath. "But it was too real to dismiss. I'm sorry, Tseng."

The look Tseng tossed him was thin at best. "What are you apologizing for?"

He wasn't entirely sure of the answer to that, just knowing that he felt it had to be done. For not protecting Marlene? For trying to do things on his own? For not knowing how to comfort his lover? For so many things...

Tseng didn't really wait for his answer, slinging his feet over the side of the bed and rising to his feet. He gathered his loose hair into a ponytail with quick, efficient movements, adjusting his clothing, reaching for his suit jacket, obviously preparing to leave. And despite the early (or late) hour depending on how one wanted to look at it, Sephiroth decided it was time that he rose as well.

Behind the curtains, he could see the sun rising slowly, a dim, blue glow piercing the thin cloth. Sephiroth sucked in a slow breath, sliding off the bed himself. His head spun at the abrupt change in position, but he didn't appear to be too injured. He wondered what had happened between now and then, even as he sought out his boots and such. The Murasame had been laid to the side, but Sephiroth felt no urge to sheathe it at the moment.

He'd had enough of fighting.

"We should see what we have missed," Tseng said, already moving towards the door. "I can't find my phone so we'll have to use the old fashioned way."

Sephiroth didn't have good enough reason to argue, so he didn't. He wanted to suggest that Tseng not dive immediately into business, that he give himself time to absorb what happened to Elena and Marlene. But what did he know about grief? Sephiroth knew his own reaction would be to lose himself into work, hoping that being busy would keep him from thinking about all the things he didn't need or want to remember.

Dragging a hand through his hair in an effort to tame the wild strands, Sephiroth considered himself ready for the public and followed Tseng out the door. The apartment sounded deserted, most of the lights off or dimmed. Zack's door was wide open, showing that it lacked a resident. Sephiroth wondered where his best friend was, and how Zack was taking Elena's death.

He and Tseng left the apartment in silence, stepping out into the main hallway of the building. Living near the WRO headquarters had its perks, Sephiroth supposed. They crossed a short walkway connecting the two buildings and found themselves in the massive structure that served as home to the World Regenesis Organization.

Already on the seventh floor as a result, a quick elevator ride upwards took them to the thirtieth level. Offices and resting rooms began here and continued up the next twenty or so floors with the president's office at the very top. But they would have to get into a different elevator from the thirtieth floor, a safety precaution.

In the silence between them, Sephiroth remembered that he and Tseng had a lot of unresolved tensions. To be fair, they were all on Sephiroth's side. His reluctance, his fears, his issues. And Tseng was the only one patiently waiting while Sephiroth was too afraid to make up his mind. Too unsure he actually deserved this.

He owed Tseng his answer. And for the first time in his existence, Sephiroth felt he was ready to make it. That dark spot in the back of his mind, one that had always seeped such black poison into his thoughts, had all but vanished. Now it was just a shadowy place, dusted with cobwebs, housing only the memories he'd rather forget. Jenova was absolutely, completely gone, and his only enemy now was himself.

The elevator donged lowly, an electronic voice announcing the floor. Somewhere around sixty-one. A few floors below Reeve's obviously, but still in the hub of business. It was likely that some of their friends were milling about here. In any case, it was a good place to start looking.

Sephiroth and Tseng disembarked, stepping into the quiet and still hallway. This early in the morning, the usual gophers and daily paper-pushers hadn't arrived yet. It would be a couple hours yet before it truly started stirring, provided that the WRO employees had not suffered from the sudden, violent attack on Junon.

Tseng walked a few paces ahead of him and Sephiroth watched his lover from the back, shoulders tight and held together. Black hair swinging behind him like a pendulum from the tight ponytail.

And the words fell from Sephiroth's lips before he knew entirely what he was saying. "Tseng?"

The Turk paused, glancing over his shoulder, and Sephiroth too, had drawn to a halt. One ebony brow lifted in question, the silence of the hall seeming to swallow them whole.

"Yes?"

Sephiroth fidgeted, a fact which surprised him more than anything. The old Sephiroth, the General, would have never fidgeted. But then, the General would have never connected with another human being either. The former Sephiroth wouldn't have had emotions, and wouldn't be interested in expressing them.

He swallowed thickly, the memories knocking at the door to his control. But it was time to face them. "I believe that I am ready to talk, if you are still inclined to listen," he explained, for his benefit and Tseng's own.

He knew that right now, it was probably Tseng who needed to talk the most. But he hoped that by proving being open himself, Tseng would learn to trust him. Would learn to let go just a little bit on his side as well.

Tseng turned fully, so that they faced each other, eyes meeting. "You...?"

"Things are changing – _have_ changed," Sephiroth corrected, feeling a heat steal into his cheeks that didn't belong. How could he be this _awkward_? "I am not the sort of man who spends his life fleeing from his problems. I don't intend to start now."

"Then...?"

He shifted his weight. "I want to put the past where it belongs, in the past," Sephiroth added, and dared take a step closer, surrounded by the spicy, enticing scent that he'd learned to associate with Tseng over the last year and more. "I'm tired of letting my memories control me."

He held his breath, thinking to do something that was rare in their relationship – he was going to kiss Tseng first. He planned to be bold, to be brave, to actively seek what he wanted rather than wait for it to chase after him.

And Sephiroth hoped that wherever fate had taken her, Jenova was squalling in outrage, lashing in her confines.

Sephiroth leaned down, and was much relieved when – despite surely realizing his intent – Tseng did not avoid him. Their lips touched, a brief, mostly chaste kiss before Sephiroth pressed steadily onwards. His tongue flicked across Tseng's lips and he melded their mouths together, sharing breaths. He felt a familiar stirring in his groan, a lazy heat rising through his body and causing flutters of anticipation through him.

Somehow, this one simple kiss seemed a hell of a lot more complicated.

Tseng returned the kiss with as much passion, proving that despite his emotional state, all was not lost between them. Sephiroth had not ruined their relationship completely. Something eased within the former general with that realization.

He ended the kiss, the feel of Tseng's lips on his lingering long afterwards. He met silvery eyes with a renewed strong. "Will you still have me?"

"I never said that I wouldn't," Tseng replied, the shadows circling his eyes that much more visible this close. "I told you before, Sephiroth. I had waited ten years. A little bit longer wouldn't kill me."

Relieved, Sephiroth couldn't resist another kiss. He pressed his lips against Tseng's, breathed in that familiar erotic scent, and felt a strange calm settling through him. As though something had finally clicked into place when it had been wavering in disorder for far too long.

Tseng drew back this time, and his gaze shifted away. "As much as I could like to continue, this is neither the best time or place."

The former general winced. "My timing is less than perfect," he admitted with a bit of dismay for the lack of his own tact. "But it was necessary."

A faint smile, just a shadow of the usual joy he would see in such a grin, curved Tseng's lips. "That it was. And I am glad for the reassurance. For now, however, there is yet work to be done."

Reminded of their true reason for coming here, Sephiroth inclined his head. "We should probably head straight up to Reeve's office. Cut out the search in between."

"Knowing Reeve, he'll be there rather than anywhere else," Tseng agreed.

They moved down the silent hallways, the elevator dinging down the hall behind them. Not too much a cause for concern. Passing by several empty rooms, boots echoing on the floor, the building had never seemed more desolate.

"Sephiroth!"

He paused, breath locking in his throat at the sound of that familiar growl. Sephiroth turned, guilt crashing over him weightily, trying to bear him to the ground. He couldn't and wouldn't run, merely met the rushing force face onwards, let Barret's fingers curl in his clothing and slam him against the wall.

It cracked from the force of the blow, and the breath that had been caught whooshed out of Sephiroth. His skull smacked against the wall, dizzying him, but he kept his senses, meeting enraged brown eyes evenly. Tseng moved to interfere, but Sephiroth shook his head, not wanting to draw Barret's ire to Tseng as well.

They were both to blame, but Sephiroth most of all.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Reinforcements arriving. But Sephiroth wanted to let Barret speak his piece first. He owed the man that much. Something precious to him had been stolen and Sephiroth hadn't protected Marlene like he promised. If Barret wanted blood, Sephiroth would give it to him. The echoing guilt inside him demanded it.

"I would apologize if I thought it would ease your grief," Sephiroth said, holding his own against a man who much taller, and much larger than him. He was strong enough to break Barret's grip, but was reluctant to do so. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Barret snarled, eyes flashing with rage, hands twisting Sephiroth's shirt all the tighter. "Yeah, ya don't mean to fuck up people's lives, but ya do it anyways, doncha? Just like yer father, fuckin' up everythin' ya touch."

To Sephiroth's credit, his mind didn't immediately shatter at the reference to Hojo. He went cold, shivers racing down his spine, but he firmed his lips, holding his composure. Something had changed in him, he wasn't sure what, he wished he could put finger on it. But even though Barret's words made him pale, made the sense of blame rise even thicker, he didn't falter.

Sephiroth swallowed, making no moves to dislodge Barret's grip. "I will not deny my part in this, but I will not allow you to compare me to that man either. He and I are nothing similar. This was not done out of malice and if I could have given my life to save her, I would have."

"And Sephiroth is not the only one to blame," Tseng interjected heatedly, silver eyes flashing with fire even as he winced, the force of the emotions in the hallway crowding at his thoughts. Invading where his own feelings had weakened his mental barriers. "We all are. Marlene is only a child. And as adults, we are all responsible for her care."

Sephiroth looked at his lover, and felt his own conscience attacking him from all angles, rising up in his throat. Tseng was just as torn by this loss as Barret, even if he didn't show it outwardly. And yet here he was, trying to protect Sephiroth when he should be just as angry. Had he time to grieve either?

"No one is to blame!" A voice cried from the end of the hall, prompting all three men to see Elmyra approaching, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "If we start tossing fault around, what good will it do? We should be grieving, not attacking each other!"

"I wouldn't have to grieve if it weren't for him," Barret hissed, his large body shaking with emotion, eyes bloodshot and ringed by dark circles. It was obvious he hadn't slept in some time. In fact, Elmyra looked much the same, pale and fragile in her sorrow.

Sephiroth wished he hadn't played a part in taking their happiness from them. But he'd been so caught up in his own troubles, he hadn't watched over them like he should have, as Cloud had asked him to do. And Marlene had been the one to fall, she and Elena both. Why didn't he protect them?

"There's nothing I can do to ease your grief," Sephiroth said, even if the weight of Barret's fists against his chest was getting a bit uncomfortable. "So do what you will if you think it will lighten your pain."

Barret's face twisted into a mask of anger and grief, and he looked trapped between the two emotions, wanting to both cry and scream all at once. As if he knew that violence wouldn't help the issue, but didn't know any other way to react. And Sephiroth felt that he understood that. He was as useless at expressing his own emotions.

Hands came out of nowhere, reinforcements if you will, and they grabbed Barret, forcing him to let go of Sephiroth. They didn't even realize that Barret's grip had already loosened, something like defeat echoing in Barret's eyes. He slumped backwards, allowing them to push him away, head hanging.

"Fighting isn't going to solve anything," Archer argued, grasping onto Barret's right arm with a strength that surprised nearly everyone in the room.

"And neither is blaming Sephiroth," Nanaki added, one hand restraining Barret's other arm as though it were nothing. "Blame doesn't help anything, Barret. And it's not fair to attack his weaknesses like that."

"Sephy!"

And then a small missile in the form of a child crashed against Sephiroth, face streaked with tears burrowing against Sephiroth's belly as arms wrapped around him. Yuffie shrugged helplessly, Denzel having torn himself from her grasp.

"He wanted to see you," she said, but she didn't seem too apologetic. As though it were just the natural order of things and Sephiroth should succumb to the boy's affection already.

Sephiroth sighed, sagging against the wall. One hand lifted, resting on Denzel's hair, stroking it gently. Denzel's tiny hands clutched into his shirt, refusing to let go, his voice a mumble of words lost to the layers of cloth.

Tseng was the first to break the tense silence, his eyes downcast as his hands visibly clenched and unclenched under the tide of conflicting emotions. "I think that Marlene would be furious if she saw us adults acting like this. She would stomp her feet and declare that we all needed to get along because fighting is silly." His breath hitched, but he shook his head.

"Tseng..." Elmyra murmured, her hands clasped as though trying to hold herself together.

"He's right," Yuffie interjected loudly, planting herself between Sephiroth and Barret as though her small presence were that much of a barrier. "Enough. I can understand being angry and wanting to throw blame, but really, you're not doing anything but making it hurt more."

Barret's jaw twisted, visibly clenching his teeth, and he tore out of Nanaki and Archer's hold. He glared at Sephiroth, only to turn and stalk down the hall without uttering another word. Shoulders set and tense with emotion, anger clear in every twitch. Sephiroth could only watch him go, his own shoulders feeling as if they would buckle under an imagined weight.

Elmyra followed after him, her hand gently taking his and saying something softly. It wasn't clear if there was a response, but the fact that Barret didn't rebuff her comfort was a good indicator. He wasn't insane with grief, just a father who had lost something precious to him.

Archer dragged fingers through his hair, looking a bit shaken. "I actually came to deliver a message," he muttered, just as tired and drawn as the rest of them. "Reeve wanted you to know that Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj are all still alive, just currently imprisoned," he finished, catching Sephiroth's eyes.

Well, that explained Cloud's vague message. Sephiroth couldn't explain the surge of relief that flowed through him. Maybe he could still save them.

"He's letting them live?" Nanaki asked, surprise in his tone. He must not have heard the news. Apparently the president was keeping it pretty close to his chest.

Archer winced, holding up his hands. "He's waiting until we are all capable of making a rational decision, which, judging by Barret right now and Tseng--" He added with a pointed look at the Turk Commander. "-- is not possible right now."

"I feel a little sorry for them," Yuffie murmured. "Though most of this is their fault. Well, not just most, pretty much all of it."

"Jenova has a part to play as well," Sephiroth inserted, and surprised himself by how sharply the statement emerged. It was like they discussed himself, and he didn't like how it made something in his belly squirm. "Don't forget that."

Tseng sharply turned away from the lot of them, every step controlled. "I have somewhere to be. Sort it out amongst yourselves," he muttered, not sounding a bit like himself.

Sephiroth was torn between following, knowing the turmoil that Tseng must suffer, and taking care of the child clinging to his front.

Archer sighed, raking a hand through his hair and looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but there in the corridor with all the heavy emotions still hanging around. "Yeah, Zack's not much better than Tseng, Sephiroth. So make some time for him, okay?" he suggested, throwing a wave over his shoulder. And then he, too, was gone, following after Tseng but taking a different turn.

"Where is Zack?" Sephiroth asked of the two remaining, Nanaki and Yuffie exchanging a glance.

"Last I saw, he was at the training center," Yuffie explained, gesturing vaguely. "Do you need me to take Denzel or...?"

At the hands that practically bruised skin in an attempt to tighten their grip, Sephiroth shook his head. "No, I'll take care of him. Thanks for watching him for me."

"No problem." Yuffie waved goodbye, linking arms with her... boyfriend? Were they really that far along? Sephiroth needed to pay more attention to that sort of thing. "And for what it's worth, we don't blame you, Sephiroth."

He felt a bit of the tightness in his chest ease. "It's worth more than you know."

They left with another fleeting wave, leaving Denzel and Sephiroth alone in the corridor. Biting back a sigh, Sephiroth kneeled down, unwilling to actually pick up Denzel. The boy was a lot heavier – and taller – than he used to be. Children sure grew fast. It seemed such a simple concept but one he hadn't realized before.

A tear-streaked face gradually came into view, red and puffy from crying. And as Sephiroth brushed back bangs, he felt another loud surge of relief. The dark bruise that had been steadily spreading across the boy's forehead was gone. Not even a trace of it remained.

He felt a small smile on his face as he carefully traced his fingers across the spot where it had been. "The Geostigma is gone," Sephiroth murmured. "That's great."

"I guess so," Denzel sniffled, noisily swiping the back of his hand over his messy face, a mixture of tears and snot. Unattractive, but such was the way when dealing with children. "You came back."

"I said I would, didn't I?" Sephiroth returned, digging his free hand in his pocket and looking for the handkerchief he usually kept shoved in there somewhere, for dabbing at the occasional wound. It came out a little rumpled, but still useful and he dabbed at the boy's messy face. "I wouldn't leave you behind."

Denzel rubbed at his eyes again. "Marlene didn't," he said, voice thick with emotion, and then the tears started up again. "She was looking for me and she didn't come back. Everyone wants ta blame you, but it's all my fault. Not yours."

"Denzel..." Sephiroth sighed and pulled the boy into his arms, letting him sob shakily as he clung to Sephiroth's clothes once again. "It's not yours either. It's no one's fault, okay? Not yours. Not mine. Just really bad luck. Please don't blame yourself."

"She's my best friend," Denzel cried, though it came out muffled and less than clear, Sephiroth was able to interpret his words. "I miss her already. I miss her so much."

Sephiroth felt his heart clench painfully in his chest. And he wish he knew better what to do. What magical words to say to make the pain disappear. Denzel cried and the most Sephiroth could do was pick the boy up, making it easier to carry him somewhere else. The hallway wasn't exactly the best place for this. The last thing he needed was for some idiot to go screaming down the hall that the big, bad Sephiroth had stooped as low as picking on children.

Denzel clung to him with a tenacity that surprised Sephiroth, and once he found an empty resting room they could use, he attempted to detach Denzel to no avail. So Sephiroth just tugged off his coat, kicked off his boots and crawled onto the bed himself, Denzel propped up in his lap. Fearing the child would get cold, he tugged a blanket over Denzel's shoulders and let him weep.

He felt utterly useless but it was the only thing he could do. He trailed his fingers through brown hair soothingly and let the boy dampen his shirt beyond saving. If his being here was what mattered to Denzel, than stay Sephiroth would.

------

For being imprisoned, it certainly didn't feel as such. His room was well-lit and comfortable, the bathroom behind a closed door. He was fed three square meals a day and the television would have provided entertainment if news detailing his own exploits weren't the only shows to be found. If not for the shackles on his wrists and ankles – entirely electronic – Kadaj might have thought himself staying in a hotel.

Only he wasn't. He'd been imprisoned by the president of the WRO and his lackeys. Kadaj couldn't find it in him to be angry by that truth. They had every right. And it was ironic that his so-called enemies gave him better treatment in confinement, then his own kamibedamned father in freedom.

Truthfully, the fact that he was alive surprised him more than anything. Alive and whole without a trace of Jenova's dark presence. He hated that a part of him felt as if something were desperately missing. And he wondered how long his life would last before his enemies decided they were through with him. That he would be much better served dead than alive.

Kadaj worried for his brothers as well. No one would tell him anything, whether they were alive or dead. Though a part of him was sure that they were. He could still _feel _them – for lack of a better word. And they were his brothers. No way they were dead if he lived.

The outside world had ceased to exist to him. There were just these four walls, this one bed, that connecting bathroom, and a steady stream of meals brought by a soldier's face who continued to change. He looked out the window to gray mornings gleaming off stone buildings, with evidence of destruction on the far edge. And each sight sent a stabbing pain through him.

All his fault.

He wondered if Archer made it through the battle. Kadaj had heard nothing from him since the last time they saw each other and Kadaj had been half out of his mind, more Jenova than human. He wondered if Archer even cared anymore. But then, that would be foolish. It would take a truly stupid man to shed worry over a remnant like Kadaj. He didn't deserve to wonder for such happiness.

Kadaj lifted a hand, looking at his fingers. No leather gloves. They'd taken away all his leather, not that he would particularly miss it. A child's hands, or at least that's what he'd always thought, were it not for the scars and the callouses, the evidence of lines. He was alive, but what would become of him?

There was a click and Kadaj flicked worried eyes towards the door. It was too early for lunch and the doctor had come with breakfast. His senses tensed, not as apt as they used to be. But Kadaj would gladly lose that if it meant being rid of _her_.

The door opened and Kadaj felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes widening with surprise. "Archer?"

The older man said nothing, simply stepped inside and let the door shut behind him. He wasted no time in crossing the floor, giving Kadaj no choice as he pulled the younger man into his arms. The scent of bath soap and metal washed over Kadaj, who had suddenly started trembling. Or perhaps that was his imagination.

"Idiot," Archer muttered, his arms squeezing tightly. "Think you're so strong. You're just a kid."

Kadaj swallowed thickly. "That's a trap in itself, to think of me like a kid, you cradle robber," he returned, and it was a common joke between them, one that pulled out a thin laugh. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Said something. _Anything_," Archer responded, his voice thick. "I could have helped. Instead, I stumbled around looking like an idiot, fighting for something I wasn't sure I believed in."

"There was nothing you could have done."

Archer pulled away suddenly, his hands finding their way to Kadaj's face, gripping him gently, forcing their eyes to meet. "You don't know that," he said fiercely and only then did Kadaj realize how very tired Archer seemed, his fatigue showing his age where it hadn't before. "You didn't even bother to try."

"Yeah, well, history's made a pretty clear example of what happens when I try," Kadaj retorted, unable to help the bitterness. It wasn't that easy for him to trust, Archer should understand at least that much.

A flurry of emotions crossed the engineer's face and suddenly, Kadaj was being kissed, lips sealing over his own desperately. He didn't struggle, surprised by the onslaught and a part of him, more than glad for it. He had thought he would never see Archer again. Touch him. Talk to him. Know what it meant to connect to another human being.

From the start, Kadaj hadn't understood his attraction to Archer. The man was twenty years older than him, with a heart that was twenty years younger than his age. He was optimistic and kind, honest and straightforward, with a heroic streak a mile wide. And yet, unlucky in love as well.

He had only ever treated Kadaj as a child as far as Kadaj would let him. He didn't pry, didn't ask questions, knew when to stop pushing just from conversation alone. He was attractive in his own way, Kadaj had seen the looks other people had given him, but it was more his mind that was interesting.

When had it started? Could he pinpoint the moment when exasperation became curiosity became interest became _want_ became _**need**_?

Kadaj's hands moved of their own accord, one wrapping around Archer and pulling him closer, the other tangling in black hair to deepen the kiss. He tasted like sweet chewing gum and anise, like sorrow and relief mixed all into one. And Kadaj clung to him like a swimmer lost at sea, finding that one piece of debris.

Fingers trailed across his face, brushing back his hair before the hand lowered, wrapping around his back and keeping it near. Archer wasn't much taller than him, but sometimes, Kadaj hated that difference as much as he wallowed in it. He felt wrapped in comfort, even as a part of him screamed to run away because it was peace, and he wasn't supposed to desire that.

But Jenova was gone. What was stopping him?

Archer pulled back to trail a few short kisses across Kadaj's jawline and to his neck, just below his ear. And there his forehead settled on Kadaj's shoulder, breathing softly, warm air wafting against Kadaj's bare skin.

"I can't do it again," Archer murmured, surprising Kadaj with the revelation. "I can't and I won't. I've lost too much already."

"Archer..."

"I mean it," he continued fiercely, hold tightening. "If you're going to leave, just do me the favor of killing me first."

Eyes wide, Kadaj pulled back, forcing Archer to look at him. "What the hell kind of attitude is that?" he demanded, horrified by the very idea of it. He didn't want to kill another human being again, if he could help it, much less his lover's. Kadaj had enough blood on his hands.

"It sounds crazy, I know," Archer muttered harshly, his violet eyes taking on an odd gleam. "But I've been abandoned twice, and the first was my fault alone. I won't go through it again. I don't have that kind of strength."

At a loss for words, Kadaj was felt with an incredible urge to strike his lover. Indeed, his body shook with the desire to do so. He restrained, violence not the best answer in this situation.

"You are an idiot," he said instead, pulling away from Archer, only to grab his hand and drag him along to the bed. He was tired, the fatigue pulling at his limbs, but he was unwilling to betray his weakness. "What's up with that defeatist attitude? I thought you were smarter than that?"

Before Archer could respond, Kadaj used his unhumanlike strength to toss his elder lover onto the bed and Kadaj crawled after him, pressing against every hard line and angle. Archer hadn't bathed since battle, and smelled like it. Smoke and electricity and lingering traces of magic and fire, steel and blood. A smell that Kadaj was too familiar with, that should bother him, but didn't.

"What the hell happened to holding on and never letting go?"

Archer wrapped an arm around him, holding their bodies tight together. Confusion swam in his eyes. "You're saying...?"

"But then, if you find it so easy to just let me walk away, then perhaps it doesn't mean anything to you at all," Kadaj added before crashing his lips over Archer's, sealing their mouths together.

Heat and comfort, passion and want, all swirling through him. Kadaj wasn't entirely sure what he wanted, but he knew that Archer drove him past the edge of rationality. Even from when they first met, he had been inexplicably drawn to the engineer. Now was no different. He had this second chance, and it would be impolite to waste it, even if he didn't deserve it.

Need danced across Kadaj's skin, igniting a fire he hadn't quenched in what seemed like a long time. A small moan echoed in the back of his throat and he pressed Archer, wanting and needing more. It didn't take much to convince the older man to participate. A shift of his hips, wandering hands, a low noise and Archer fought to take control, finding his courage once again.

And Kadaj let him. There was plenty chance for conversation later. Plenty of time for discussion and arguing and answers and "what will we do from here". Right now, he just wanted to be reminded of the reason he had fought Jenova for so long. He just wanted to live.

------

Sephiroth's hand was going numb, but he was reluctant to take it back. Denzel still clung desperately to it. Holding his breath, Sephiroth peered at the little boy's face, hoping that he had fallen into sleep. His breathing seemed even, and his eyelids didn't flutter as Sephiroth carefully extracted his stolen arm.

It had taken the better part of an hour for Denzel's exhaustion to become stronger than his grief. And even then, Sephiroth couldn't be sure the child would sleep peacefully. Who knew what would haunt his dreams after such a day?

Sliding to the edge of the bed, Sephiroth ran a tired hand through his hair, and was alarmed by the amount of tremble in his fingers. When was the last time he had truly slept? Ate? Rested for more than a minute? Sephiroth honestly couldn't remember. Sometime before he found out about the three brothers? Or even longer before that? Exhaustion seeped into every pore, but he couldn't rest yet.

There were others he had to see, that could possibly need him, and that was a different feeling for him. Someone _needing_ him.

Sephiroth crept from the room with one final glance to make sure Denzel was actually sleeping, and then he slipped into the hallway. Silence greeted his ears, even more deserted than before, and he wondered where to even begin looking. He needed to talk to Zack, but he didn't want to leave Denzel entirely alone either.

Fortune smiled upon him, because at that moment, Elmyra passed and Sephiroth desperately hoped that she wasn't busy. And that she didn't hate him as much as her husband did.

He called out to her softly, not wanting to disturb her as she hadn't noticed him yet, lost to her thoughts. "Elmyra?"

Aeris' adoptive mother paused, finally realizing his presence. "Sephiroth?"

"Are you busy?"

She surreptitiously wiped at her eyes, offering him a shaky smile. "At the moment, no. I was just walking to clear my head. As such things go."

Relieved that she didn't seem to display any animosity for him, Sephiroth stepped a little further into the hall, keeping the door cracked behind him. "I was hoping I could bother you for a favor?"

"Something to do would help ease my restlessness," she replied, her hands twining together in front of her, the dark circles surely rivaling his own.

"Denzel is sleeping in the room. Would you watch after him for me? I don't want him to wake up alone."

Elmyra nodded, her features softening in sympathy. Mother and daughter were very much alike. "Of course. Though I'm sure he'll want to see you as soon as he wakes."

"I'll do my best to return before then," Sephiroth assured her, unable to express his gratitude. "You wouldn't happen to know where Zack is, would you?"

Moving to the doorway, Elmyra hummed thoughtfully. "He was heading to the lower levels when I saw him a few hours ago. Perhaps back to your apartment then?"

"Perhaps. Thank you, Elmyra." Sephiroth gave her his best rendition of a smile and turned towards the elevator.

Back to their apartment? Somehow, Sephiroth doubted that. Zack's usual response to being troubled was to climb to the highest place he could find. Which meant Sephiroth would check the roof. But if he was heading down, then there was only one other place he would go and it was not their apartment. Zack was amazingly predictable, and in all the years they spent together, Sephiroth felt he understood a little something about his best friend.

Stepping inside, he punched the button for the ground level. If not high above the clouds, then Zack would be scraping through the dirt, submitting his body to punishment after punishment. Sephiroth was sure he'd be at the training grounds.

On the proper floor, which consisted only of various training facilities, Sephiroth steered towards the practice arena. The sound of thumping traveled to his ears long before he actually saw Zack. He pushed open the main doors, stepping into the large open space, and found Zack as the only person present.

He looked as tired as Sephiroth felt, the dark shadows under his eyes deep and sunken. Ruthlessly pounding at a punching bag, Zack had obviously been at it for some time. He didn't immediately notice Sephiroth, only recognizing him when Sephiroth stepped out onto the floor, unable to mask his footsteps.

Zack's fist hit the bag one last time before he bounced back a pace, removing his gloves and stretching out his fingers. "Seph," he greeted, though he lacked his usual enthusiasm.

He wasted no time on pleasantries. "How long have you been at this?"

Zack shrugged, swiping a hand over his sweating forehead before moving to replace his gloves, tightening first one and then the other. "I don't know. An hour, maybe two?"

"Have you eaten?"

"Have you?"

Sephiroth paused, reminding himself that Zack only got particularly belligerent when he didn't want to show weakness. "Not yet. We should get lunch."

The other man halted, only to stare at him as if he'd grown three heads and started spitting a different element from each fanged mouth. "And that, right there, would be a major switch in our roles, General."

He twisted his jaw. "I'm not allowed to worry about my friends?"

Sighing, Zack moved away from the punching bag, perhaps realizing that Sephiroth wasn't going to give up. He yanked off one glove and tossed it aside, reaching for the other. "I didn't say that Seph. It was just weird."

He watched as Zack pulled off the other glove, every motion sharp and controlled. As though he struggled to keep hold of himself and this was the only way he knew how. The languid ease which Zack usually carried himself was gone, replaced with a cold control that Sephiroth knew all too well.

It was the same he had adapted as the General.

"Zack--"

Blue eyes cut at him aggressively, narrowing. "Sephiroth, I swear ta all things Holy that if you apologize to me, I'm going to hurt you."

Surprised that Zack could read him so well, Sephiroth halted in the middle of the step he had prepared to take, hands curling at his sides. "There is some fault--"

"There is none!" Zack growled out, slashing a hand through the air as he crossed the distance between them with an angry stalk, his face pale from restrained motion. "No fault, no blame, and if you start with that self-hatred shit, I'm going to punch you. And I'll enjoy it."

If they weren't best friends, Sephiroth might have been alarmed by that. But even he could see the pain in Zack's eyes. He was grieving and this was the only way he would handle it. More than that, guilt had somehow invaded his grief, making it deeper and more acrid.

Sephiroth wasn't the one with self-hatred here, it was Zack, and it was strange that he was the one to spot it for once.

He lowered his gaze. "Elena said that, too."

Zack's head whipped towards him. "What the fuck're you talking about?" he demanded, his hands curling in Sephiroth's shirt in a move so reminiscent of Barret. Only this move wasn't out of anger or malice, but pure desperation.

His grammar really suffered when he was emotional and Sephiroth forced himself to speak, even if the words felt heavy on his tongue. "I had a dream. Or maybe it was real, I don't know. Cloud was there, but more importantly, Elena and Marlene were there, too. And Elena told me that if I blamed myself, she would hurt me." A small, fond smile twitched his lips. "I believed her."

Zack made a strangled sound, eyes glistening with unshed emotion. "A dream?"

"Something like that. She wanted me to tell you that she would have stayed," Sephiroth continued, something sitting heavy on his chest as he felt the shudder wrack through his best friend, grip loosening as a tremble took over his body. "And that it's okay. Though I don't know what she meant by the latter."

His gaze fell, Zack's head slumping downwards. His fingers tightened, white-knuckled. "Okay?" he repeated, voice barely a whisper. "How the fuck is it okay?"

Sephiroth stirred into action, reaching for his best friend, but Zack tore away from him, movements jerky and angered. His voice thick with sorrow. "It's not okay," he repeated, though it was more of a shout this time, and Sephiroth had the feeling Zack wasn't just talking to him, but to her as well, wherever she was.

He raked his hands through his hair, a nearly vicious motion. "I never gave her anything," Zack continued sharply, pacing across the floor. "Not one-hundred percent of anything! So tell me, how is it okay?"

His own heart breaking, Sephiroth once again felt useless. "Zack, you and she are much the same in that you freely give yourselves to others. You can't be blamed for that anymore than she can."

Zack shook his head. "Regret always comes when it's too late to do anything about it," he muttered shakily, furious with himself above all else.

"Did you love her?" The question slipped out before he could stop it, and Sephiroth wished he'd had enough foresight to avoid it.

"I don't know," Zack answered, calmer than he had been before. "I should have. But I don't know if I did. She deserved it."

Ah, that explained the flashes of guilt then. Zack was angry at himself for not giving Elena his heart when he felt he should have. But even Sephiroth knew it was wrong to try and force emotion. Strange that Zack, who understood so much, could not fully settle matters of the heart.

"Zack, if there's anything--"

"No," his best friend interrupted, shaking his head almost violently. "No, I just... I need to be alone."

Sephiroth hesitated, reluctant to do so. He couldn't just leave when Zack looked like he was about to fall apart. "Zack..." His speech fell short, unsure of the proper words needed in such a situation.

Blue eyes looked at him, darkened in grief. "Please, Seph. I don't... I just need a little bit to myself. Then I'll let you comfort me."

"A role change if I ever saw one," Sephiroth murmured, but nodded anyways, already turning away.

_Someone, please tell me what to do_.

Behind him, there was the sound of a violent thud, chains snapping all at once, both followed by a vicious thud. And when he turned to look, the punching bag had been ripped from its chains, falling to the ground. Zack stood over the damage, hands hanging loosely at his sides, gaze focused on the far wall.

And Sephiroth knew that he was far, far out of his league with this. He needed help, and as Zack couldn't give him advice, he would have to seek it from someone else. And he believed he knew just the person.

******

a/n: Another emotional chapter out the way. But there's still plenty more to come. Up next: Interlude Eight: Heaven's Not Enough in which Kadaj makes a move on Archer and Loz gets his chance to speak. Stay tuned! And thanks for reading!


	26. Interlude 8: Heaven's Not Enough

a/n: I definitely feel on a roll with these. Here's the next update! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings for self-beta, boykisses, and slight language.

**Shattered Children**

**Interlude Eight: Heaven's Not Enough**

"Hurry, catch it!"

A shout. Laughter. Breath puffing in cold air. Feet skidding over gravel and dead grass, brown with the onset of winter.

"To the left! The left!"

The sound of a ball falling into someone's hands filled the air and a rousing cheer echoed from the children gathered.

Loz grinned, shooting them all a thumbs up. "Great catch," he said, nearly out of breath, wiping a bead of perspiration from his forehead. "Now toss it here. I'll throw it again."

"Okay, Mr. Loz!" One of the neighborhood kids, a chubby-cheeked brat with curly hair practically sparkled at him with pride. He heaved the ball as hard as his chubby little arms could manage, which actually wasn't very far.

Luckily, Loz had guessed the trajectory well, and managed a fancy looking catch that saved the both of them from looking like fools. And well, even if he had to skid across the ground in a slide to do it, the children were entertained. For some reason, the dirtier he got, the more amused they were.

Rising to his feet, Loz dusted himself off, spitting out a small clump of grass. The children's grins were infectious as they scattered, waiting to see who he would throw to next. But before the ball could even leave his fingers, Junon's great clock rang loudly, announcing the time.

High noon. Lunchtime for kiddies, especially during winter break. Sounds of disappointment echoed through the park, children turning with slumped shoulders and trudging back towards their homes.

"Eat well!" he called after them as a series of small hands waved goodbye and a chorus of "Bye Mr. Loz!" and "See you later!" and "Thanks for the game!" followed in their wake.

Loz couldn't help feeling a little disappointed himself. He lifted his shoulders and raked a hand through his hair, dislodging a few bits of dirt and ice that had gathered there. His rumbling stomach decided he should probably head home as well.

Tucking the ball under one arm, Loz snagged his abandoned jacket from the ground and jogged out of the park, still full of restless energy. He supposed he had Hojo to thank for that. Nothing was ever enough. Not play, not food, not anything. He felt as if he were spending his existence constantly searching, and never finding anything.

The park was only a block away from their shared apartment, a little rundown and far from comfortable, but the only thing they could rent at the time lacking suitable identification. That had since been remedied by Yazoo's computer hacking skills but at the time, housing had been a first necessity. Loz didn't personally care himself, only glad that the apartment looked nothing like their sterile, cell-like quarters in the lab, and that he didn't have to face countless painful tests everyday. He was too enamored of his freedom to care what package it came in.

He took the stairs rather than the elevator, passed the kind elderly couple from the first floor that liked to bring them baked sweets, and juggled his keys out of his pocket. Only to find that the door was unlocked. Loz frowned. He'd told them time and time again to keep it locked. It didn't matter that they could protect themselves or that they really didn't have anything of value, it was the principle.

A wash of warm air smacked him in the face – Yazoo always did complain of being too cold while Loz and Kadaj sweltered in misery. "Oi! You guys didn't lock the door again!" Loz hollered, stomping his feet to clear out the mud before kicking off his boots.

"That was your fault!" A voice called from one of the rooms down the hall – Kadaj's, he was sure. "You were the last one to leave."

Loz pondered, slinging his coat over the rack. It was possible. Bah, he let it slide. "What's for lunch?" he asked instead, peeling off his sweater too. He was already feeling the immense heat.

Yazoo appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, tossing a pack of instant ramen at him. "Have at it," Yazoo said, vanishing back into the kitchen.

"Awww." Loz looked forlornly at the package of chicken-flavored noodles. It was never enough, not one or two packages. He wanted meat, not powdered seasoning. "I'll just cook something myself then."

"Stay out of the kitchen!" came Yazoo's surly response and Loz cringed, the sharp note of annoyance in Yazoo's tone enough to cause him to back away slowly. Very well then, on to the rest of the apartment.

He passed by Kadaj's room, where his youngest brother was propped up in a chair reading a book that looked way too boring for Loz's tastes. "He got hit on by a man again today," Kadaj said without looking up, blandly flipping another page. "I had to clean up another mess."

Loz scratched at his chin. "That explains the 'tude."

"Kadaj, shut up!" Yazoo hollered from the kitchen.

"Cut your hair and maybe they wouldn't mistake you!" Kadaj shouted back with a smug grin, smirking behind his book.

No answer came, but even Loz could tell that Yazoo was fuming. It really would be best if he stayed away from the kitchen for the moment, despite his growling stomach.

Kadaj's eyes flickered to him. "Playing with the children again? You're too old for that."

"Not like I ever got to be a kid before," Loz reminded him, a conversation they'd had many times before.

Besides, he liked children. There were innocent and pure, knowing nothing of strife. Loz often felt that spending time with them helped leech out the darkness inside of him. He thought that in another life, he could have been a teacher or something similar. Though with the way his thoughts sometimes disconnected such a thing was impossible now. His brain simply wasn't up to it.

Loz promptly banished those depressing thoughts. They were only an invitation for that bitch to stick her fingers in his mind and he liked thinking for himself. Even if it was only fleeting.

"And what about you? You're going to ruin your eyes if you keep reading like that."

Kadaj snorted, flipping another page. He was probably just skimming since he'd already read that book before. "If that were possible for us, I might actually welcome it," he replied quietly, and Loz noticed the way his hands tightened in their grip on the book.

Of the three of them, Kadaj heard her the most, and suffered the worst. Loz knew it all too well, and he wished there were actually something he could do about it. He was supposed to be the eldest, but most of the time, Yazoo and Kadaj looked after them. He had big hands but they were useless. He was helpless in front of _her_. All of them were really, but it was always Kadaj who held out the longest. He was her favorite and Loz didn't envy him for it.

He wished he knew the answers.

Loz shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, words failing him as they usually did. He didn't know how to comfort Kadaj because he didn't know how to comfort himself. He didn't know the right words to make it better. Or the right actions.

Kadaj sighed and glanced at him over the top of the book. "It's fine, big brother, no need to cry about it. Go eat something. Your rumbling stomach is scaring me."

"I'm not crying!" Loz retorted sharply, eyebrow twitching. Geez, lose control of his emotions one time and neither of them would ever forget it!

Still, he was relieved when that induced a small smile from his youngest brother. Practically the only time he resembled his age. Kadaj really ought to smile more.

"Whatever. Leave me alone so I can finish this chapter."

"Hai, hai. Whatever little brother commands," Loz said cheerily and turned away from the door, idly scratching at an itchy spot on the back of his neck. Some mud flaked off, reminding him that he needed to bathe. Perhaps he should do that before he ate.

His belly rumbled again. Or maybe after. He was really hungry. Even if all he had to look forward to was a cup of ramen.

Loz decided to brave the kitchen and crept towards it. Pans clattered. Water ran. And Yazoo muttered under his breath, ripping open a bag of rice and pouring it into the pan. Loz winced at the outright violence in the motion. It really bothered Yazoo when he was accosted like that. Some would say he should consider it a compliment, but such actions went hand in hand with memories of Hojo and tests and utterances of "failure".

Yazoo was too pretty. Too delicate. His body, while fast and sleek, agile and flexible, simply couldn't take the same kind of beating that Loz's could. And he lacked an intimidating aura. Of the three of them, he carried an artist's spirit, and Hojo had wanted a warrior. Yazoo had been trash, even before Loz had been.

And it didn't help that at the moment, Yazoo happened to look very girly. He had his hair pulled up with some sort of bright red scrunchie that bared the nape of his neck. And that apron! Loz had to cover his mouth before he burst out laughing. Still, a chuckle slipped by him and Yazoo whirled at the sound, spatula raised.

That was it. Loz snickered loudly, unable to help himself. Of course, that didn't help Yazoo's temper either.

"Want some advice from your big brother?" Loz asked, pushing his way into the kitchen to dump some water on his ramen. "Don't ever go out like that in public."

Yazoo rolled his eyes. "Great pearl of wisdom there. I'll lock it away with all the other ones I've gathered in the past few months."

A few beeps and he popped the noodles into the microwave. Loz tried to peek into whatever Yazoo was cooking, but apparently, he wasn't allowed to see yet because he was quickly intercepted.

"You're just in the way," he muttered, elbowing him out of the way.

Loz grinned, reaching up and poking his brother in the cheek, though it was a lot like tugging the tail of the tiger. "You know, you really look like some kind of parent right now."

Yazoo smacked his hand away. "And you're the child I never would have wanted." Finally, his younger brother looked at him and made a face. "Playing with kids again? You're filthy."

Loz laughed again as the microwave dinged.

"Shit!"

Both Yazoo and Loz turned towards the door where Kadaj flew past it in a flurry, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he careened down the hall. Arching a brow, Loz ventured back into the corridor to see Kadaj struggling to pull his hair back into something relatively presentable. Yazoo followed him, peeking out the doorway.

"Where are you going?" Yazoo called out as they watched Kadaj grab his coat from the pegs and throw it over his shoulders.

"Out," Kadaj answered shortly, tugging on a scarf as well though he didn't reach for his gloves. Souba was noticeably left in its sheath by the door and not attached at his side.

Loz grinned, leaning against the wall. "Oh? To do what?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"None of your business," Kadaj snapped, his cheeks flushing, and for a moment, looking like the teenager he really was. "I'll be back later."

And the door slammed behind him.

"Aww, he's really growing up," Loz cooed, amused at Kadaj's reaction.

Wouldn't it be nice if they could spend the rest of their lives like this? Like real people? Without worrying about the dark presence slithering in the back of their minds? Loz thought about that sometimes. He never voiced it aloud, because that was too much to hope for, but sometimes, he wondered.

Yazoo rolled his eyes and stepped back into the kitchen where he was in the middle of burning their dinner. They had insisted on splitting the duties, but really, Loz was the only one could cook anything worthwhile. Still, Yazoo tried and Loz let him because he thought it was kind of cute.

"Take a bath. You're dirty," Yazoo muttered, and it was soon followed by the sound of running water and the fan over the stove clicking on.

Shaking his head, Loz stretched his arms over his head and realized that yeah, he was pretty dirty. He wondered how long this freedom was going to last as he wandered back to the bathroom. Just the three of them. This tiny apartment. A city large enough to get lost in. And Jenova hovering in their psyche, like a scar that would never heal.

And Loz honestly, desperately prayed to whatever god would listen for fate to have some mercy on them. For Kadaj's pure heart and Yazoo's gentle spirit if anything else. And maybe, if there was a bit left over, spare some for him as well.

-----

Paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. Archer wasn't sure when he signed up for all this, but he was damn tired of looking at it. He scribbled Reeve's signature onto another document and shoved it aside, hurriedly reaching for the next. His eyes glanced at the clock and he cursed under his breath. He would never finish at this rate.

A hand came down in the middle of his paper, blocking where he was supposed to sign. "You seem to be in a hurry," Reeve stated jokingly, looking ready for a hard day at work with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. "Hot date?"

Archer stilled, as the description was and wasn't accurate. He didn't dare call this a date, but it wasn't something he wanted to miss either. "Something like that," he answered, and didn't meet Reeve's eyes because the president was far too adept at garnering the truth.

Reeve arched a brow, skeptical. "Really?" he prompted, keeping his hand in place and preventing Archer from continuing his work.

Rolling his eyes, Archer poked his pen at the tanned hand in his way, leaving an ink mark behind. "Kami, Reeve, you make it sound like I'm some kind of eunuch!" He tried to nudge the paper out from under the president's hand. It threatened to tear.

Finally removing his hand, Reeve flicked fingers at him, dropping behind his desk and into his own chair. "For a while, I almost thought you were." He snorted. "Go, get out of here then. Maybe this 'hot date' will help that surly disposition."

"Thanks, boss," Archer retorted sarcastically, and was out of his chair in a flash, grabbing his coat and slinging it over his shoulders.

There was a stack of papers remaining but Reeve could get Reno to sign those if he really wanted. No one was as good at forging as Reno. Good thing he was on their side.

Reeve waved off his gratitude, already immersed in his own stack of important documents. It didn't really pay to be the president of a major company. Especially at times of mergers and funding requests and rebuilding and all that not-fun stuff.

He reached the door in record time, but it was opened by another before he managed to grab the handle, and Archer encountered a very pregnant Reis. He scrambled to get the door for her, Reis casting him a grateful look, one hand placed over her bulging belly.

"Thanks. That door just keeps getting heavier."

"It's not the door, it's your stomach," Archer teased, wincing as she smacked his arm playfully, practically glowing with pride. "Not much longer, ne?"

She grinned, looking relieved. "Two more weeks," Reis returned and entered the room behind him, waddling all the while. She looked near to bust; it was hard for Archer to believe there was just one baby in that belly.

"Good luck!" Archer called after her and practically sprinted down the hallway, glancing down at his watch. He was already running late, and he prayed to some deity that his date wouldn't leave.

The fact that he was rushing to see a teenager bothered Archer on several levels. He knew that there was a line there, and he shouldn't cross it. To be honest, he hadn't. They'd done nothing more than chat with each other since the moment they had met for a second time, bumping into each other randomly. It had been Kadaj to suggest they meet again that time, and Archer had been unable to find sufficient reason to deny him. Or, to be honest, a part of him hadn't really wanted to.

Kadaj was beautiful, and strong, and there was a look in his eyes that spoke of loneliness, that screamed to be saved. Archer was drawn to him inexplicably, as though the youth exuded some type of pheromone to draw him in. It was wrong, so very wrong, and he needed to stop this before he got in too deep. Yet, here he was, careening down the hallways of the WRO, frantically pressing buttons on the elevator, and plunging into the cold streets of Junon, still tugging on both gloves and winding his scarf around his throat.

They had promised to meet at the fountain in the middle of Junon, one of the few places the both of them could recognize that wasn't directly near the WRO building. Archer mentally apologized as he pushed his way through the crowd, fighting his way to the fountain. A few protested, but Archer ignored them.

He heard the fountain before he saw it, a steady stream of falling water above the noise of traffic and hundred of people crammed into wide sidewalks. And when he broke through the crowd, he spotted Kadaj immediately, that head of silver hair pretty distinguishable. Something inside Archer sighed in relief, even as he noticed that many were giving Kadaj appreciative looks that he didn't seem to notice.

The soft spray of the fountain suited Kadaj, giving him an almost otherworldly looked as he gazed into the distance. He was burrowed in a thick coat, appropriate for the winter weather, his hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He looked unaccountably young at the moment, and lost as well, a deep sadness in his eyes.

Man, he was such a kamibedamned sap sometimes.

Sucking in a deep breath to calm his rapid-fire breathing, Archer slowed his frantic pace to a more refined walk and stepped into the courtyard. His breath puffed out in front of him, and a glance to the sky proved that it could possibly snow at any moment. Something to look forward to.

Kadaj seemed to sense his approach, because he looked up, those startling eyes instantly focusing. "You're late," he said, rising to his feet and scowling.

"We adults do have work you know," Archer returned, and then grinned, idly loosening his necktie – a must when working with the president of the WRO. "But I see you waited. I thought you said you wouldn't."

The cute spots of color on Kadaj's cheeks made him feel all squirmy inside and Archer fought to dampen the utterly _wrong_ reaction. "I was about to leave," Kadaj retorted sharply, tucking his coat around him. "You're lucky I didn't."

"Yes, yes, very lucky indeed." Archer waved him off, trying his hardest not to grin. "So how about lunch? It's too damn cold out here."

Kadaj shrugged, drawing alongside behind him and garnering the two of them some very varied stares. "I don't mind the cold."

"Somehow, I thought you would say that." Archer had always gotten the feeling that Kadaj was much like winter. His pale skin, his silver hair... and seemingly cold on the inside.

Those eyes looked at him questioningly and Archer lifted his shoulders. He couldn't explain himself if he tried. At least, not without sounding like an utter pervert. And though a part of him couldn't deny Kadaj's attractiveness, his rational and moral side had planted a big, fat "Keep Away" sign on the teen's forehead.

"Never mind. I know a shop down the way. Small and out of the way, but it makes the best soup."

Kadaj shot him another look, his lips twitching. "What? An old man's bones can't take winter?" he teased, walking alongside Archer as they braved the crowds and the slick sidewalks.

"Hey! I'm not that old yet," Archer argued, each little reminder of his age like a tiny stab to his moral fiber.

"True. You certainly don't seem like a fort--"

"Shh! We don't say that around here," Archer insisted, and glanced around pointedly, this routine something they go through every time. "I'm still four years away from that mark."

In all honesty, he hated admitting that he was almost forty, unmarried, and childless with not even a lover to his name. And what had he done in the past four decades? Saved the world a couple of times? Big deal. What did that net him for his future but a life of loneliness, surrounded by happy friends and a bunch of children who weren't his own but would call him "uncle" all the same. It sounded incredibly lonely and Archer didn't relish the thought of it at all. But he didn't want to seek a lover for that reason alone either.

Kadaj lifted a brow. "Delaying the inevitable, Kyle?"

"Only where it counts." He winked slyly, a small tease that never failed to get a rise out of the other man. "And what do you do with yourself all day while I slave away at paperwork and whatever master tells me to do?"

"Is that what you call the president?"

He noticeably lowered his voice. "When he's not looking."

Kadaj shook his head. "You're more of a child than I am."

"It's what keeps me young," Archer joked, shoving his fingers into his pockets as a gust of wind stirred, blowing icy air over him. "Well?"

Kadaj sighed, shrugging dismissively. "Not much. Mostly looking for the occasional odd job and such to help out my brothers."

"School?"

"I don't need something like that."

"At your age--"

Green eyes cut at him, Archer's words ending mid-thought. "If you're going to start with that kind of adult bullshit I'll just walk away now. I've heard it enough."

"Okay, okay." He held up his hands in surrender, moments like these enough to make Archer ask himself why again he was doing this. Why he was letting this boy crawl under his skin and into his life. Why he wasn't just walking way before he was in too deep.

"Fair enough. Then why do you want to spend time with a geezer like me."

"Nothing better to do?" Kadaj returned teasingly, a hint of lazy nonchalance in his tone.

Archer blew air out of his mouth. "Smart ass."

"Hey, you asked." The youth tucked a stand of hair behind his ears, his hands uncovered by gloves and giving Archer a glimpse of them.

They were rough, calloused, not at all like he would have expected. More of the mystery surrounding Kadaj's existence. Archer made a mental note to subtly inquire into the missing persons database for anyone fitting Kadaj's description. There had to be someone out there who missed him. There had to be.

"Besides," Kadaj continued. "Not everyone can say that they get to spend time with a hero."

Archer snorted before he could stop himself, Kadaj unknowingly stepping on a landmine. "I was just along for the ride, Kadaj. It's not like I did anything special."

"Hmm, I'll bet your friends think differently."

'_As if they had the time to worry about a bachelor such as myself_,' Archer remarked internally. But he was not a bitter person at heart, so he shoved those kinds of thoughts away, to the deepest pits of his subconscious. He knew it was just jealousy over their happiness, jealousy over the fact he couldn't seem to gain any of his own.

He hunched his shoulders against the cold, somehow suddenly stronger to him. "So... do you think it'll snow today?"

Kadaj twisted his jaw, making a noise of discontent. "Oh, smooth there Kyle. A subtle way of changing the subject." He tilted his head back to look at the sky, bangs falling to frame his face. "I'll let you slide this time since you seem so depressed over it."

"Depressed!" Archer practically spluttered in indignation. "Che. What would a child know of that sort of thing?"

He meant it as a joke, as a tease, but it was clear from the look in Kadaj's eyes that he'd taken the words as something else. "More than you would think," Kadaj murmured, and gray-jade took on a sheen that made a slight chill run through Archer that had nothing to do with the weather.

There was a coldness there, a harsh, stark reality that echoed too much of the same look he occasionally caught in Sephiroth's eyes. Ones that had seen too much in a short span of time. Things that Archer himself would never bear witness to, that brought nightmare upon nightmare, strong enough to drive a man mad.

"And I'm not a child," Kadaj added quietly. "I'm not sure I've ever been one either."

Archer looked at him, taking in his youthful expression, his face a cast of darkness. "You're only sixteen--"

"Seventeen tomorrow," the youth corrected, possibly even softer than before, as if admitting it by mistake alone.

He blinked. "What? Really? Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"Or we could have done something? Is that what you were going to suggest? Or do you still celebrate your birthday at your age?"

There was a sense of aggression in Kadaj's words, and Archer had the feeling birthdays were never something to be celebrated in Kadaj's life before. As if they meant something other than joy. And once again, Archer was struck with the thought that this boy might be more similar to Sephiroth than just in looks. He had a feeling he was already in over his head.

He dragged a hand down his face to clear his thoughts. "And this would fit in the realm of topics for you that should be subtly changed," he muttered quietly, watching Kadaj from the corner of one violet eye. "Moving right along."

Kadaj went quiet for a moment, his gaze determinedly set on the crowd around them as they meandered towards the shop. Archer would admit that they were taking the long way around, but only to himself. There was a shameful part of himself that wanted to extend how much time he spent with Kadaj. In just a short while, the boy had crawled under his skin.

"I think it really will snow," Kadaj said after a minute, taking a deep breath of the crisp, damp air. "Smells like it."

And Archer couldn't help it, he chuckled, his own mirth causing a small smile to tug at Kadaj's lips. "Aye, that it does. Snow and perfume and far too many restaurants crowding a narrow strip of sidewalk."

Kadaj laughed softly, a sound that Archer wouldn't mind hearing again and again, his insides doing a strange flip-flop, warming reaction. "And here I thought I was the pessimistic one."

"I just hide it better."

"So I see."

The sound of Archer's cell phone ringing cut through their conversation, managing to both make a loud noise and vibrate annoyingly in his pocket. Archer wanted to ignore it, but feared the repercussions of doing so. Kadaj cast him an askance look as he pulled the device out of his pocket, grimacing at the readout.

"Important?"

"Maybe. It's the boss," Archer replied, going through a quick internal debate about answering it once more. Well, Reeve knew he had plans, so it had to be important since he doubted Reeve would interrupt for anything that wasn't. "Do you mind?"

Kadaj shrugged, waving him off as they moved out of the pedestrian traffic and to the side of the walk. He leaned against the side of a building as Archer pressed a button to answer the call.

"Yeah?"

What came next was a garbled string of words, all said too quickly for Archer to identify them. Reeve didn't sound like himself at all, words in a rush, frantic and excited both.

Archer winced. "Reeve, calm down. Say it slower."

He literally heard the president take a slow and long breath. "Reis has gone into labor," Reeve stated carefully, speaking each word as if it were Archer's fault he hadn't understood the first time and not Reeve's.

A surge of excitement rippled through the engineer even as he fought down a stab of jealousy. "That's great," he replied, and he meant it. "So--"

"We're taking her to the hospital now but you know Reis, she's being stubborn about it."

Archer still wasn't entirely sure why Reeve had called him. "Well, she is a doctor, I think she would know these things. It can often take hours for a baby to be born, Reeve. Especially for first timers."

There was a moment's pause where he could practically see his best friend's eyes narrowing in accusation at him. "And how would you know?"

Archer sighed. "Reeve, would you just tell me what you need me to do. I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of Kadaj pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling something on it. He tossed the boy a questioning look but Kadaj just shook his head, focusing on his writing.

"What's more important? Your date or my daughter?"

"Reeve, she's your daughter. Not mine. I can come later, can't I?" he asked, wondering why the proud papa demanded that everyone be present. He was pretty sure the waiting room would be chock full of their friends. They didn't need one more body.

There was a noise of a phone being fumbled, and then Reno's voice poured through the receiver, sounding only marginally more composed than Reeve's. "Are you saying you don't want to be here when your cute niece is born, huh? You'd rather have some floozy?"

Archer, never in his life, would have thought to ever hear Reno use a word like floozy. In fact, the very thought of it was laughable.

At the moment, Kadaj appeared in his field of vision, one hand grabbing Archer's free one and pressing what felt to be a piece of folded paper into his fingers. Archer looked down at it, confused, when suddenly a pair of hands – cold from the weather – grabbed his face and pulled him down to meet a set of very warm lips. Soft and pliant as they pressed against him, insistent and wanting. The scent of Kadaj surrounding him, something like juniper and honey, sweet and seductive.

And then Kadaj was drawing away, something a bit like mischief dancing in his eyes. "Rain check, hmm?" he murmured, and turned on his heels, vanishing into the crowd before Archer could utter another word.

He glanced confused at both the paper, his lips tingling as heat flushed his entire body. What... the hell? Not that he was disappointed, but... did people normally kiss others they just met and walk away like that! Archer glanced at the paper, unfolding it carefully.

There was a phone number listed there, pretty much a blatant invitation for him to call Kadaj once more. Perhaps he had sensed from the conversation that Archer would have to reluctantly end their plans.

"Archer!"

He blinked, coming back to himself. "I'm here," he responded with a sigh, already turning back towards the WRO headquarters and the adjoining hospital. "And I'm coming. Though you owe me."

"Yeah, well, put it on my tab," Reno drawled. "See you in a minute, buddy." And the line went dead.

Archer rolled his eyes, tucking the phone back into his pocket. And then, on second thought, pulling it back out to store Kadaj's number in it. Just in case.

*****

a/n: And of course, we all knew where that "just in case" ended up, don't we?

More to come, including an update on the 15th. Keep an eye out for that.

Coming up next! Chapter Seventeen: Crashing on the Shore in which Reis makes a visit and Sephiroth asks for help to hold it all together.


	27. Chapter 17: Crashing on the Shore

a/n: Moving right along... tis the 15th and as promised, here's another chapter!

Warnings for self-beta'ed, language, boykisses, spoilers, the usual!

**Shattered Children: Chapter Seventeen**

**Crashing on the Shore**

Pen scribbling over paper. Hand swiping over his brow. Palm digging into his eyes to stay awake just a while longer. And the phone rang again. Reeve reached for it without looking, tilting his head to notch it between his ear and shoulder.

"Tuesti here," he answered crisply, and dully listened to the voice on the other end. More reinforcements, more supplies, more dead bodies, more destruction. He wished he could be surprised.

Every member of WRO had been called to active duty, pulled from all over the globe. But they couldn't get here fast enough and Reeve had innocent citizens dying in the street because he couldn't get the help to them in time. Cid was putting the Valenwind through its paces just to pick up and distribute the forces, but it wasn't enough. Still, Reeve tried.

He ended the call several minutes later, the news only allowing him a brief breath. The reinforcements from Cosmo Canyon had arrived, spilling into Junon and hopefully, helping to tend the wounded. He was still waiting on those from Wutai that Yuffie and her cabinet had promised. But they had a longer journey to make.

And papers spread in front of him. Stacks upon stacks of reports. A good portion of the buildings were merely rubble, nothing salvageable except perhaps after months of digging. It had rained everywhere, reports of Geostigma being pulled in from the entire world – his one saving grace. And through it all, three men sat in cells in headquarters because no one was quite willing to decide what to do with them yet.

The phone rang again. Reeve blinked to add some moisture to his parched eyes, and reached for the jangling noise filling the silence. Someone else's hand got their first and his fingers touched warm skin, jarring him from his rhythm.

Reeve blinked again, looking up to see Reno watching him, his own expression as tired as Reeve's must have been. "I've got it," was all he said, and Reeve let him answer the phone, Reno unsurprisingly reliable. He never would made it as second-in-command otherwise.

His husband's voice soothed straight through him and Reeve drew a breath, glancing down at the papers in front of him. The words were starting to blur again. He rubbed his palm over his eyes. There was a click as Reno returned the phone to the cradle.

"And?" Reeve asked, fingers tightening around his pen. The second he'd gone through in the past day? Two days? He wasn't even sure anymore.

Reno shrugged dismissively. "It stopped raining."

"Did it?" Reeve lifted dull eyes to the window, where indeed, the sight of falling water had ceased.

It rained for quite some time, but then, there were many people infected with Geostigma. Reeve didn't know what the weather had to do with fixing it, but decided he'd just go with it. Stranger things had happened.

Reno inclined his head and placed his palms flat on the desk, lowering himself until he was eye to eye with his husband. "Reeve, when was the last time you slept?"

The president paused, tapping the end of his pencil against the desk. "When did the rain start?"

"Twenty-four hours ago. At least, the third times anyways."

"Then sometime before that," Reeve responded, and shook his head, glancing down at the blurring numbers again. "I honestly can't remember."

Reno rounded the desk, and his warm arms coming down around Reeve from behind felt like a blessing. "Have you even given yourself time to grieve?"

"Would that I had time," Reeve responded, and unwound cramped fingers from his pen, letting it clatter to the desktop. "But there's too much to do. Too much to take care of. Too much--"

A hand covered his mouth as Reno pressed against him, all hard angles and heat, smelling faintly like rain and gunpowder and blood. "Come to bed with me. And don't give me any bullshit about havin' too much to do, yo."

Reeve knew that his husband was right. The tensions running through his body ached, and he couldn't concentrate anyways. He'd been staring at the same piece of paper for twenty minutes, unable to decipher the writing on it as it faded in and out of clarity. His head pounded with his skull, his stomach so empty it no longer complained. He would collapse soon, by choice or not.

He lifted a hand, placing it on Reno's arm, and squeezed. "I can't get up if you won't let me."

"Just a minute," Reno mumbled, his face pressed against the back of Reeve's shoulder, his arms tightening in their hold.

Reeve understood. Reno hadn't had time to grieve either. And losing Elena was like losing a sister to him, a piece of his family. Marlene's death had also struck particularly hard, as she was young. So very young. And they had all failed to protect her, every last one of them. Reeve couldn't even imagine what Tseng suffered.

"There's nothing you or I could have done," Reeve murmured, closing his eyes and letting Reno soak up the comfort. He could use some of it himself. "And I'm saying it because I actually believe it, not just for your benefit."

"I know," Reno said, his voice thick with unshed emotion. "Elena's one of the best Turks we ever had. It's just..." He broke off, unwilling or unable to finish his sentence, but Reeve understood all too well. That it didn't seem fair remained unspoken. It was the same that had crossed their minds after losing Cloud to the Chaos War.

Reno sighed softly, tilting his head to press a warm kiss against the side of Reeve's throat. The phone rang again, and amber eyes opened to glare at the offending object, the sharp jangling noise piercing his senses.

"Ignore it," Reno urged. "The world can take care of itself for a few hours, yo."

The president wanted to agree with him. Every fiber of his being ached, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with his husband and sleep for the longest time. To bring his sister and his daughter home and to kiss Revan on the forehead and soak up the comfort of family.

He lifted his hand, his arm feeling like dead weight. "It could be important," he muttered, and told himself that his fingers absolutely weren't shaking. Even if they obviously were.

"Or it is probably just someone giving you another report about something you could stand to know in a few hours," Reno corrected, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from the phone. "_Ignore it_."

Reeve considered listening to his husband and obeying, but the phone had the unique ability to penetrate into his brain, signaling its urgency. Phones and bad news had become synonymous in his eyes and ears. And a part of him didn't want to know what else had gone wrong, or how many more bodies had been found, or what else was collapsing. His heart couldn't take it.

The door to his office chose that moment to burst open without so much as a knock or a signal to the person's presence, though admittedly there were few capable of getting to this level of headquarters. Reeve looked up to see his sister entering, burdened down with several bags of necessary supplies and one infant, who immediately gurgled on sight of her two fathers.

"I want to see him," Reis stated without any hesitation, slightly out of breath, a hint of red to her cheeks. Her amber eyes were ringed in shadows.

Reeve rose to his feet, Reno at his side, as they helped relieve Reis of all her burdens. The president took hold of the mass of wriggling that was his daughter, tucking her into his arms.

"Who?" he asked, utterly confused. "And how did you get here?"

She waved a hand in dismissal, only to drag fingers through her slightly disarrayed hair. "Caught a ride on the Valenwind with Aeris and the others, but that's neither here nor there." Reis paused to take a breath, looking as if she'd run the entire distance from one continent to the other. "And by him I mean Yazoo. He's alive, isn't he? I want to see him."

Several thuds echoed in the office as Reno dropped the bags she had brought in, casting her a stunned look.

Reeve, for his part, lifted his free hand and rubbed it against his forehead. He could feel the aching already, and hated himself for forgetting that brief phone call where Reis had revealed she knew Yazoo somehow. In the aftermath of the battle, and finding Elena and Marlene, he'd let it slip his mind completely.

"How do you know him?" Reno demanded, speaking when Reeve could not.

"Between you and Archer, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself," Reeve added, more of a murmur to himself than anything else.

His family, his friends, hiding their associations to a bunch of Sephiroth-lookalikes. How could none of them see the danger in that? Reeve struggled to think of anyone else he knew that could possibly have a connection to Loz, but none came to mind. He supposed only time would tell to see what other secrets slipped out.

Reis shook her head. "That doesn't matter. I want answers, brother, and I want them now. What's going on?"

Reeve felt the sudden need to sit down and he wandered to the couch, plopping down on it as Revan made a noise of disapproval. His arm automatically took up a swaying motion to comfort her. "Yazoo is one of the three brothers who, under Jenova's influence, tried to destroy the planet. He is one of Hojo's last experiments."

He told her the truth because she was old enough to understand. And because she had to know what she was getting into, how near to danger she had been.

"He's not exactly stable," Reeve continued, feeling something tug deep in his chest at the look on his sister's face. "We don't even know if Jenova's completely gone from them, or what. Right now, he's imprisoned in the lower levels."

The words had barely left his mouth before Reis was turning, heading towards the door. No doubt straight for the lower levels. She knew where to go.

Reno quickly caught her arm, stopping her progress. "Whatever ya think you knew of him probably didn't really exist," Reno said, the same that Reeve would have said if he didn't feel so very tired. He wanted to stop Reis, he honestly did, but he also knew his sister and her stubbornness. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

"I don't care," Reis said, in a tone of voice that implied there was to be no argument. "You don't know him."

"And you don't either," Reeve interjected quietly, ignoring the heated look his sister tossed at him, amber eyes flashing with fire. "It's impossible to say what Hojo's madness has created."

She worked her jaw, letting out a harsh exhale. "If you treat him like a monster, then he'll become one. But he's the same as Sephiroth, Reeve. I'm sure of it. Let me see him."

"I'm not trying to stop you. I just don't want you to be surprised when you see him again." He knew far better than to try. He could forbid until his face turned blue and his lips fell off, but she would just sneak in at the first opportunity.

Her eyes flickered to Reno, who finally released her arm. "Let us be a bit concerned for our precious sister, ne?" he said, with a tight smile. "It's been a long few days."

"And probably even longer for him," Reis returned quietly. "Which room is it?"

"502."

She inclined her head and was gone, before either he or Reno could say another word, the door clicking shut behind her. Reno let out a huge sigh and dropped down into the couch next to Reeve, reaching over trace a finger down Revan's cheek.

"Hey sweetheart," he murmured, Revan turning towards the touch and opening her eyes briefly, eyes the same shade as her reckless father.

Reeve leaned over a bit on Reno's bony shoulder, feeling older than his years. "I think I'm ready to go to bed now," he muttered.

His husband chuckled quietly. "Yeah, me too."

-------

Restless, Aeris put aside the book she had been reading and stared at the far wall, covered by a lovely painting. She had long since memorized the details of it, still feeling a restless urge inside of her. Midori was asleep finally, the emotions and stress of the day wearing thin on her infantile body. And with nothing to do, Aeris could only sit and think.

Her own emotions were frazzled. It had been good to see Cloud again, very relieving, but also bittersweet. It had been much harder to watch him leave for the second time, even if she could still feel him inside her. His warmth and kindness, his love, they resonated through her. She didn't feel alone – honestly, with all their friends how could she possibly – but she missed him.

Aeris breathed out slowly, lifting a hand and rubbing at her temples out of habit alone. Grief hung like a heavy pall in the air, thick enough to breathe. Aeris herself felt numb, Marlene's death spearing her through the heart. She had been responsible for the little girl and look what had become of it. And Tseng! She knew it had to be tearing him up inside. And Elena's death had caused the WRO employees to walk around in a daze – Reno and Rude especially, who felt as if they had lost a sibling.

One of their family indeed. That was what they had all become. A group of former terrorists, orphans, intellectuals, soldiers – truly eclectic – and yet nothing meant more to them then each other. The bonds that war would weave.

Someone knocked lightly on the door, pulling Aeris from her thoughts. It could be any number of people, and she rose to her feet, easily avoiding furniture in the dimly lit resting room. She suspected it would be some time before she would return home to Rocket Town. There were things that needed to be done here.

Opening the door, Aeris had only a moment to recognize Sephiroth – and all his haggard appearance – before the man launched into speech without so much as a greeting.

"I need your help," he said, shoulders slumped and eyes darkened an uncountable surge of emotion.

Aeris blinked. "I.... what?"

Lifting his shoulders and spreading his hands helplessly, Sephiroth elaborated. "It's Zack. I don't... I don't know how to help him and he needs it and there's nothing I can do."

In a moment, Aeris understood. She stepped aside, gesturing him within. "Let's not talk about this in the hallway."

He nodded and moved to enter, before looking at her hastily with a tip of his head. "Ah, I apologize for disturbing you at this hour."

Her lips twitched, very close to a smile. "It's three in the afternoon, Sephiroth."

Inside, his gaze swept the room, truly a soldier's habit, and he fidgeted as he stood in the middle of the clear floor. "Is it?" he murmured, dragging fingers through his hair. She politely didn't notice that his fingers were trembling.

She let the door shut and flicked on the lights, though she used the dimmer to keep them low so as not to wake Midori. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Yesterday?" Sephiroth returned, obviously hazarding a guess. The room now lit, he located what was possibly the most uncomfortable chair in the room and lowered himself into it. "Or the day before that? I'm not entirely sure what day it is, to be honest."

"Understandable." Aeris returned to her chair, by Midori's borrowed bassinet, and let her eyes wander back to Sephiroth. "You look as if you could use some rest."

He sagged in the chair. "Probably, yes. But circumstances never make things so simple." And Sephiroth fidgeted again, only proving his fatigue.

Aeris dropped a hand into Midori's bassinet, gently stroking her fingers over Midori's back. "No, they don't, do they?" she responded quietly, thinking of Cloud in that moment. "You asked for my help?"

Inclining his head, Sephiroth rubbed a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away a week's worth of weariness. "What do I know about this kind of thing?" he asked in a roundabout manner. "I was made a soldier. How am I supposed to comfort someone?"

Sympathetic, Aeris listened, understanding Sephiroth's dilemma. It was hard enough for the former General to come to terms with his own emotions, much less someone else's. And to worsen matters, he had three grieving persons on his hands – his best friend, his lover, and his adoptive son. No wonder he was overwhelmed.

"I think you'll be better at it then you know," Aeris assured him. "It doesn't take much. It's enough to let him know you're there."

Dragging a hand through his hair – it was kind of cute that Sephiroth had such an aggravated habit – Sephiroth breathed slowly. "You might be right. But I'm only one person; I can't help them both. And I can't abandon them either."

"What would you have me do?"

"I'm worried about Zack," Sephiroth explained, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. "He's just bottling it up, taking it out on the equipment in the arena." He paused, looking crestfallen. "He wouldn't talk to me. He just wanted to be alone."

To anyone else, it would seem unreasonable for Sephiroth to be upset about that sort of thing. But an outsider wouldn't understand the connection between the two – how very close Sephiroth and Zack were, like brothers without blood ties, family members who loved each other wholly without the sexual connotations. Sephiroth was worried, and the helplessness showed. He wasn't used to not knowing what to do.

Midori stirring, Aeris reached in and pulled her daughter into her lap, mismatched eyes blinking up at her sleepily.

"Understandable. Elena's loss has hit him strongly and guilt colors his sorrow," she commented quietly, feeling similar pangs in her own heart.

Elena was a dear friend to her, and Marlene like her own child. She only held her strength visibly because she couldn't afford to fall apart. And there were others who felt the pain deeper. She needed to be strong for them, just as she had needed to be strong for Midori. Aeris would take her time to quietly grieve later. For now, she had to help the emotionally stunted soldiers.

Tucking Midori close, she continued, "Have you been to see Tseng?"

"I saw him briefly this morning, but we separated earlier," Sephiroth answered, his hands clasping tighter.

"You should find him. He doesn't need to be alone right now."

Sephiroth's head bowed, shoulders slack with defeat. "I know that. I..."

"Don't worry about Zack." Aeris rose to her feet, moving Midori to her shoulder where the infant stirred before murmuring something and settling again, no doubt disturbed by the emotion thick in the air. "I'll try and lure him away from destroying Reeve's important equipment."

Relief and gratitude instantly shone in grey eyes. "I... thank you, Aeris. I really appreciate it."

"I couldn't go off and leave him on his own, could I?" she returned playfully, hoping to ease some of the tension for Sephiroth. "Besides, it is likely just that Zack doesn't want to burden you."

"I wish he would," Sephiroth murmured, rising to his feet as well and stepping nearer, lifting a hand and gently stroking over the soft hair on Midori's head. It always amazed Aeris how very gentle he could be with the infant. "I want to return all he's done for me."

She laid a hand on his shoulder, unsurprised by the subtle tremble his body had taken. "I'm sure he knows," Aeris murmured, and gave him a comforting squeeze. "Now find Tseng. I'll take care of the rest."

---------

An uneasy restlessness gave speed to her limbs and Reis hurried through the halls, a part of her anxious, a part of leery. She knew her brother was right. That Yazoo might not be the same. Even so, she could not abandon him. Something in him called to her, and she felt that if she didn't, no one else would. They were friends, weren't they? And Reis chose to believe in him.

The detention floor – a little more extravagant than an outright institution, but still, essentially, a prison – was guarded by two soldiers in WRO uniforms. Reis whipped out her name badge; it granted her access to pretty much anything in the building except for the higher laboratories, the weapons storage as she had no need for them, and the true prison cells. Flashing her picture, one guard nodded and stepped aside, pulling open the thick door and letting her through.

She heard the music before anything, confusion floating into her thoughts. Music? Here? Did they even allow instruments in the detention hall?

The door closed behind her with a loud and defining clunk, and she was treated to the sight of a hallway lined with doors, all with viewing windows. Each door had its own personal guard, who turned to look at her immediately. One door down the hall in particular had three guards clustered around it, talking to each other in low tones.

A glance nearby gave her a number. 512. Numbered backwards it appeared. Or, it was more likely she had simply entered on the wrong end of the hall. Reis resisted the urge to peek into the windows, not wanting to know who else might be in here. She had come for Yazoo alone.

A door to her left opened and she paused, blinking as Archer stepped out.

"Reis?"

She offered him a smile. "If you're going to ask me what I'm doing here then I'll have to turn the question back at you."

Violet eyes shifted hesitantly as he pulled the door closed behind him. "Same as you. Visiting a prisoner."

Reis lifted a brow. "And who would that be?"

A tinge of red flushed Archer's cheeks. "Kadaj," he admitted, though it was clear he didn't really want to.

"The youngest brother?" she exclaimed, shocked. She knew enough thanks to Yazoo. "He's like... twelve years younger than you!"

"Twenty, actually," Archer said quietly. "And trust me, I've heard enough lectures from Reeve to last me to the end of my lifetime. I know how bad it looks. And I also know I'm not going to give him up."

She had never seen such determination on his face before. Archer was serious. He would fight like hell if anyone tried to separate them. But... if Kadaj were himself, then perhaps Yazoo was as well. Though she did remember Yazoo always mentioning that his little brother was the strongest of them.

"I wasn't going to lecture you," Reis said. "I was just curious." She smiled softly. "I am here to visit Yazoo myself."

Archer blinked. "How did _that _come about?'

"My secret to keep." Reis waved dismissively, and headed further down the hall. "We'll catch up later, okay? There's no telling how long I'll actually get to talk to Yazoo before Reeve comes storming down here to rescue me."

A short laugh escaped the engineer, dissolving the tension in the hallway. "You do that. Good luck, Reis."

It would have sounded strange to anyone else, but she understood the gesture. "You, too."

Archer was already gone, and Reis focused on her destination. The closer she drew to the cluster of guards, her ears detected a faint, soft noise. Like music, fingers elegantly moving over the keys of a piano. She passed by room 502, but was more drawn to the mournful melody.

"He's been in there for hours," one of the soldiers muttered to the other, shaking his head.

"I didn't even know these freaks could do something like that," the other commented, craning his neck to peer through the viewing portal.

Reis' eyes narrowed. "Something interesting?"

In tandem, both uniformed soldiers startled and whirled towards her. She was pleased to notice that their hands immediately leapt to their weapons. Their reaction time was good, even if it was obvious their behavior wasn't acceptable.

"Ah... you...?" One stuttered, trying to match her stern voice to her face, which wasn't exactly recognized.

She flashed her card again, and was gratified in seeing both soldiers pale when her name was revealed. Tuesti. Pretty powerful stuff here. "Who's in the room?"

"One of the rem-- prisoners, Yazoo," the second soldier corrected after an elbow in the side from the other.

Interested, Reis moved to the door, peeking through the glass. "It's protocol to allow prisoners access to an instrument?"

"President Tuesti approved it."

She smiled softly to herself. Her brother really was sympathetic on the inside, even if he didn't show it. "Let me in."

They hesitated, but remembering her name badge, drew out a keycard attached to a stretching chain. Soldier One swiped it through the lock, and a series of quick key presses later granted her access, and encouraged a spill of music into the hallway. The sound flowed through her and Reis briefly closed her eyes in face of it. Beautiful.

"Feel free to lock it behind me," she murmured, already entering.

Reis didn't give them a chance to answer, stepping quietly across the tiled floor. The room itself was empty, except for the piano. A large window allowed gleaming light into the room, casting it in an ethereal glow. Yazoo sat with his back to the door, hair drawn into a low ponytail by a familiar red band, his fingers moving smoothly across the white and black keys. The melody was haunting and soft.

He had to have known she was there. Reis was not skilled in walking silently and his senses were too militarily attuned. Even when they were just friends, before all this craziness, she had noticed that about him. So Reis made her way across the floor, and slid into the empty seat beside him. He tensed, ever so subtly, one note hitting a mite flat, before he continued without pause.

She watched him in silence for several moments, feeling the heat of his body next to hers, watching the elegance of his fingers as they pressed key after key. He was too talented a musician to be wasted as whatever Jenova had wanted to use him for. There was a shadow of a bruise on his face, but even it was healing quickly. By tomorrow, no doubt there would be no hint of it. And without the leather she was used to seeing him wear, he looked younger. More boyish.

Handsome.

Her cheeks flushed briefly with that realization. Well, that sort of understanding could come later. Right now, she just wanted to talk.

Holding her breath, Reis lifted a hand and gently laid it over Yazoo's left hand, covering his fingers and halting his song mid-note. "I'm glad that you are not injured," she murmured, her voice carrying in the soft silence as the last tone echoed.

Yazoo drew his right hand into his lap, but didn't shy away from her touch. She considered that encouragement. "I apologize for not telling you."

Her fingers curled around his, longer than her own, and very elegant. "I understand why you couldn't," Reis assured him, and her eyes raked over his features again. "Is she gone?"

"I don't know." Green eyes – a soft celadon rather than the vivid, ethereal jade – cast towards the ivory keys. "I can't feel her anymore. But then, she had always been a distant voice to Loz and myself. Kadaj was the only one who actually heard her speak."

"A blessing and a curse." Her fingers carefully stroked over his palm, wanting to reassure him of her presence, and their friendship. "I will talk to my brother. I don't know what he's planning, but I won't let him kill you."

Yazoo subtly cringed and only then did he take his hand back, sliding off the piano seat and raking a hand through his hair. It was caught on the tie, and he jerked it free. "You shouldn't bother. Whatever the president decides is probably for the best. We are not good people."

She twisted around on the seat, watching as he paced slowly across the floor, agitated and trying to fight it. "Once upon a time, neither was Sephiroth. And yet, here he is. Alive with his second chance. And so are you."

"It's not that easy."

"It's as simple as you choose to make it," Reis returned, hoping that her words would get through to him. She considered Yazoo a dear friend – perhaps even more. "I don't want to watch you die."

He paused mid-step, and for the first time, actually looked at her. As if seeing her for the first time. Loose strands of hair framed his face, softening his features. He really was an attractive man, but more than that, he was intelligent and talented. And he actually listened to her music, paid attention to it, valued it for a different reason than her parents ever did.

"You really think we're worth something."

"Every human life is," Reis returned, the answer very personal to her in her occupation. She was never one to simply let a patient die.

She patted the empty seat beside her, offering him a gentle smile. "Play that song for me again?"

Yazoo gave her an odd look, probably confused as to why she would ask for something like that at this time. He moved across the floor, steps still silent, like some sort of graceful assassin, and lowered himself onto the seat.

"You actually like it?" he asked quietly, lifting his hands and running them over the keys without making a sound, just warming up his fingers.

Reis avidly watched his hands, wishing her own were as skilled. "Of course."

The melody poured through the room, so familiar, but gradually shifting into something else. Even as she watched, he altered the tune, the notes easing from melancholy to an encouraging lilt. And he made the changes so seamless, without any real effort. Reis envied his talent.

He played softly, and she closed her eyes, losing herself to the melody. Reis leaned to the side, laying her head on his shoulder, felt the heat of him through her cheek. And though he briefly missed a note, Yazoo continued without protest.

And Reis couldn't help but smile softly to herself.

--------

Instinct and intuition had always served Sephiroth well. Now was no exception. In his search for Tseng, he headed to the Turk's quarters, once shared with Elena. It seemed the last place Tseng would be, but Sephiroth had a feeling it would also be the first place he would go. Even if the memories were too strong, the memories were at least there, and Tseng would wallow in them.

He was even more sure of himself when he arrived and the front door was unlocked. Tseng was too controlled to forget – even in grief -- so it had to have been planned. Sephiroth stepped in, throwing the bolt behind him. The apartment was darkened as though no one was home, but it didn't feel empty. Tseng was definitely here.

Toeing out of his boots, Sephiroth stepped lightly down the hall, noticing that Elena's room was tightly shut. The kitchen and main room were empty, the bathroom as well. Leaving pretty much only one place for the Turk commander to be.

Tseng's door was open, and Sephiroth considered it an invitation to enter. His eyes already adjusted to the dark, he quickly spotted Tseng on the other side of the room, sitting in a chair before the window. A bottle of something sat on the sill beside him, but it appeared untouched.

The Turk turned his head towards the door as Sephiroth entered. "I've not touched it," he explained quietly, voice lacking the slur of inebriation. "Elena wouldn't approve."

"No, she wouldn't."

One hand toyed with the bottle. "Denzel's sleeping in her room. Elmyra brought him here when she couldn't find you."

Good to know. But Sephiroth couldn't help but think it was a distraction tactic. If Denzel was sleeping, then he was fine. Right now, Sephiroth was more worried about Tseng.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" Sephiroth asked, feeling as if he'd thrust himself into another situation where he didn't know what to do. How did he fix things? He was a soldier, a fighter, known for tearing things down and destroying. Sephiroth didn't know how to fix.

"Didn't really need the light," Tseng answered, and he rose to his feet, the chair creaking behind him. In the half-light given by the streetlamp pouring through the limbs, he was all shadows and angles, but behind his placidity grief grew stronger and stronger.

Emotions squeezing his chest, Sephiroth stopped trying to dance around it. He didn't know, he wasn't going to guess. "Just tell me what to do," he murmured into the dark, drawing closer to Tseng. "What do you need from me?"

There was a creak as Tseng dropped down to the bed, raking a hand through his loose hair. Suit and tie had been lost long ago, buttons loosened, belt abandoned, shoes kicked off to the side. He set his elbows on his knees, back bowed under an imaginary weight.

"Gift and curse, this ability of mine," he said softly, voice barely carrying through the dark. "I had a feeling. I think I knew it before everyone. I just didn't recognize the feeling. I thought maybe it had something to do with all the worry. I didn't realize it was time ticking down."

Sephiroth lowered himself beside his lover, pressed against Tseng's side. Though barely touching, he could feel the chill around Tseng. His face was shadowed by the falls of hair, but even emotionally-inept Sephiroth knew that he was upset. All Tseng had was his strength, and he clung to it, but the grief was stronger and gaining ground. No wonder he had retreated to the safety of his own room.

"Tseng, I don't know what to say."

"Words are useless anyways," the Turk murmured, and his body gave a light shudder, the emotions breaking free before he locked them in again. "At least in this situation. If I have to hear one more "I'm sorry" or see another sympathetic look, I'll shoot myself to save the irritation."

Sephiroth winced, knowing that Tseng didn't mean it. Or at least, hoping so.

He thought desperately of the words Elena and Marlene had left him in that strange dream or reality he had visited. Sephiroth wasn't inclined to dismiss it too quickly. The planet and the Ancients worked in odd ways, and he wouldn't reject their mercy. Seeing the two one final time had been a grace.

"They told me to take care of you," he murmured, and gave a little sigh of disbelief, shaking his head. Something hot grew behind his eyelids. "Marlene made me promise to make you happy, though I had already carried that intent."

Beside him, Tseng stilled imperceptibly and then his forehead fell into his palm, a bark of bitter laughter escaping him. "Sephiroth, I'm trying my hardest here not to fall apart. You're not making it any easier."

"I'd apologize, but I wouldn't mean it."

Tseng's fingers tightened. "You want me to break?"

"No, I want you to grieve." Sephiroth turned towards his lover, forcing Tseng to look at him. In the gloom of the room, the Turk's silver eyes were pools of emotion. "I couldn't help Zack. But I'll be damned if I'm going to be useless here as well."

He closed his eyes, dragging in a slow and steady breath. "We are soldiers. We are fighting, kill--"

"That's bullshit and you know it as well as I do. Don't spout that nonsense at me." Sephiroth's words were fierce, probably more than he intended, but even he knew that if Tseng bottled this up, it would only hurt more in the end. "They were worried for you, Tseng. Even in that dream world. Don't dishonor their care for you with that sort of ShinRa bullshit."

Silence echoed in the room and Tseng's head bowed, no fight left in him. He didn't even try to break free from the hold Sephiroth had on his shoulders.

Sephiroth sighed and let him go, rising to his feet. "Come on," he ordered, moving to the head of the bed.

He pulled off his extra shirt, tossing it to the side, and throwing his belt atop it. Extra accessories joined the haphazard pile until he was clad only in a sagging pair of pants and his undershirt.

"What are you doing?" Tseng asked, voice thick, as he looked up.

Sephiroth crawled back onto the bed, stretching across the covers. "Join me?"

Confusion furrowed Tseng's brow, but he followed Sephiroth's example, and the moment he came close enough, Sephiroth snatched an arm and pulled him close. "I don't really know what I'm doing," Sephiroth continued as Tseng made a small noise of protest. "It just seems the right thing to do."

"Taking lessons from Zack, I guess," Tseng muttered, but he gradually relaxed anyways, pressing against Sephiroth until his cold body shared Sephiroth's heat.

"Aeris, actually," Sephiroth returned, burying his face in long strands of black hair, a very familiar scent emanating from it. "Trust me?"

Tseng's body gave a faint shudder, imperceptible if they hadn't been so close. "Sometimes, I hate how well you can shield your emotions from me," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. And for his sake, Sephiroth hoped he was allowing those tears free. "But right now, it's a blessing."

Sephiroth said nothing, his hold unconsciously tightening. He both felt and heard Tseng draw in several slow, hitching breaths. Struggling to hold onto his composure and failing in the wake of his emotions.

Silence filled the room, words unnecessary. And Sephiroth hoped that in the end, he had helped in some way. Watching his loved ones grieving so strongly made something inside his own chest squeeze painfully. As though the sorrow were his own as well.

Time dragged before Tseng's grief was overcome by his exhaustion. He slumped into Sephiroth's arms, giving in to sleep. And Sephiroth allowed himself to gradually relax. His arm was gathering pins and needles, but he didn't dare move.

He was just beginning to doze when his soldier senses clicked to life at the sound of the door opening. He tensed, but recognized the tread of small feet across the floor. He said nothing as a small body crawled into bed on the other side of him, cuddling against his back.

Denzel needed the comfort, too.

And a part of Sephiroth was warmed by that need, cradled by two very important people in his life.

Small hands clutched onto the back of his shirt, a wet face pressing against him, but Sephiroth didn't complain. If his presence were enough, he wouldn't say a word. He would just be there.

* * *

a/n: Ah, I'm sure there's some happiness in here somewhere. I promise! An easing from the sorrow and guilt will come. Just takes a while to get there.

See you on the 18th! I hope you enjoyed!


	28. Chapter 18: Second String

a/n: Another chapter! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings for boykisses, self-beta, language, the usual~

**Shattered Children: Chapter Eighteen**

**Second String**

"It's too fuckin' quiet," Cid muttered, his voice echoing forlornly in the abandoned hallways. "And it's like a damn ice box in here."

Vincent shook his head. "Eloquent as always, captain. They are in mourning."

"Yeah, well, they didn't have to make it so fuckin' obvious," Cid retorted, rubbing his hands over his arms.

One hand lifted to his forehead, only to remember that he – technically – had given up that habit. He covered up the aborted motion by scratching under his goggles.

"Where the hell _is _everyone?"

His steps sufficiently muffled, their approach was marked by the almost violent thud of Cid's military-style boots. "Scattered to the four winds. Elena and Marlene's death hit everyone particularly hard."

"Bunch of bullshit is what it is," Cid muttered with a sigh, frowning deeply. "I'm getting too fucking old for this."

Vincent's lips twitched. "Finally admitting your age?"

An elbow jabbed him in the side, digging right between two ribs. "Oy. I'm still younger than you, Mr. Slept-In-A-Coffin-For-Thirty-Years."

"Not by choice."

"Bah, excuses, excuses." The blond waved a dismissive hand, only to point one finger at his taller lover. "The point is, I want a vacation. Another one."

"Hoping to find another piece of inexplicable machinery?"

Cid rolled his eyes and dug a hand into his pocket, pulling out a small box of toothpicks. One was immediately placed between his lips; a counter-measure against his cigarette needs. Vincent suspected that his lover simply had an oral fetish that needed to be assuaged and that it wasn't about nicotine at all.

Not that Vincent hadn't capitalized on said fetish many, many times before.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get that lucky again," Cid muttered, chomping down on the carved wood. "But my Valenwind... she sure is a beaut."

Vincent was only half-listening to his mumbles, his thoughts suddenly taking an entirely different course than their current conversation. It had been a good week or so – a tense, battling, bloody week – since he'd really managed to spend any solitary time with Cid. And while it didn't seem to be bothering his lover much – either that or Cid hid it really well – thoughts of toothpicks and oral fetishes had only reminded Vincent of that fact.

He tracked his gaze around as Cid managed to snag one of the WRO's few visible pencil-pushers and grill him for information regarding the whereabouts of their friends. The building really was pretty deserted, though Vincent suspected that would change over the course of the next few weeks. The residents of Gaia were nothing if not sturdy, capable of bouncing back from any calamity.

They would mourn. They would grow angry. And they would stop to take a breath again. And then they would rebuild. Better, higher, stronger. The people of Gaia were resilient.

"-cent, are ya even listenin' to me?"

Blinking, Vincent looked at Cid who had a distinct expression of disgruntlement. The toothpick shifted from one corner of the mouth to the other. "Brooding again?" Cid demanded on the end of a grunt.

"Just thinking," Vincent returned, noticing that Cid's prey was making a quick getaway, no doubt happy to be free from the madman. "What did he say?"

Cid shrugged, flicking a hand through his hair, flecked with grey but only making him look more attractive. "Scattered about. Reeve and his boytoy are holed up in their apartment, not going there. Barret had a hissy fit so he's brooding somewhere. Archer and Reis for some reason I don't even want to contemplate are in the detention hall."

Vincent's brow furrowed in confusion before clarity dawned. "With Kadaj and Yazoo, I imagine," he commented quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Cid stared at him. "How do ya know these things? It's fuckin' ridiculous."

"I watch," Vincent replied, and his smile widened when he found an open doorway to an unoccupied room. He paused to investigate, Cid in the middle of muttering to himself and stopping without questioning why. "Did they say anything about Sephiroth?"

"Why? Ya worried 'bout him? Not like anythin' can take that brat down. He's indestructible."

"Everyone has a weakness," Vincent murmured, pleased by his discovery.

It looked like an office, one that had never been used. No name decorated the plate, and it lacked the paper mess of an office in use. Everything looked new and untouched, and the couch in the waiting area was of particular invite. Of course, the desk and chair weren't too bad either.

Cid snorted and spat out his mangled toothpick, his aim managing to land it in a nearby trash can. "Well, if yer that curious, then Sephiroth and _his_ boytoy disappeared some time ago and _I'm _not going after them. Yer more than welcome to."

Shaking his head, Vincent stepped into the office. "No, if they are together then there is no reason for me to be present," he responded.

He had briefly worried about Sephiroth, but it seemed that concern was unfounded. Sephiroth was strong, perhaps much stronger than Vincent himself had been. He pulled himself together and fought against his demons, even if he had to do it alone. Sephiroth didn't need someone worrying over him, especially not Vincent.

"And here I thought that was jes lingerin' feelings of fatherhood tryin' to catch up to ya."

Vincent paused, a chuckle escaping him. He turned, leaning against the desk. "Cid... are you jealous?"

"Jealous!" He spluttered, but Vincent noticed that the blond's cheeks darkened anyways. It was really kinda cute. "Of a brat!"

He inclined his head, grabbing Cid's hand and dragging the shorter man towards him. "So it seems," Vincent murmured, glad that Cid had enough foresight to close the door to the office behind him. "Don't worry, Chief. You're still number one."

The flush deepened, much to Vincent's amusement. "I knew that," Cid grumbled and his free hand skated up Vincent's side, briefly skating over a spot where the Geostigma had once been. "So it's really gone, huh?"

"Completely," Vincent reassured him, slipping a knee between Cid's legs, the silence of the office highlighting every slide of cloth and every breath.

The pilot rolled his eyes, though he didn't refuse the embrace. "Everybody's grievin' and you wanna do this _now_?"

"What better time to remind us what we have to live for?" Vincent posed, staring pointedly at a few spots of blood on his lover's shirt. The wounds had been healed, but he could still remember the stark reality that had been there.

Defeating the two brothers had been no easy victory.

"And now you wanna get sentimental."

"Call it a curse of old age."

Cid rolled his eyes and tangled his fingers in Vincent's hair, suddenly dragging him down for a kiss. Stubble scratched at Vincent's skin, but he hardly noticed, their bodies molded together. It became obvious that Cid was only protesting for the sake of, the length pressing against Vincent's upper thigh self-explanatory.

Vincent curled his arm around Cid, exploring fingers finding the gap between shirt and waistband and slipping beneath cotton. His hand splayed across Cid's back, moving upwards, hoping to convey his intent.

It worked as Cid pulled back from the kiss, licking across his lips. "Sentimental ain't so bad sometimes," he commented, and before Vincent could get another word in, Cid kissed him again.

----------

"Sephiroth's worried about you."

Zack paused in the midst of shoving things into a locker, closing the door and looking beyond it. Aeris was standing there, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall, watching. Her eyes conveyed sympathy as she tracked his ragged expression.

Fully closing the metal door, Zack clicked the lock into place. "That guy... he should worry about himself," he murmured, lifting the towel over his shoulders and rubbing it over his head.

Three hours of sword play. More hours of working out and strength exercises. Twenty minutes in the shooting range before it became too much. Zack still felt keyed up and ready for action, despite the fatigue that he knew he should be feeling. But he didn't want to close his eyes.

"Sephiroth is doing fine," Aeris returned, moving a step closer and sitting down on the bench in front of him. She swiveled her legs around, almost resembling a school girl as she straddled the bench. "You're the one who's not."

Rubbing water droplets from his skin, Zack turned away from her, unable to meet Aeris' knowing eyes. "Where's Midori?"

"My mother is looking after her for the moment. I had to come take care of another child."

He just knew she was smiling. Aeris had always enjoyed teasing him like that when they had dated those countless years ago.

Of course, Elena liked to tease him, too.

Zack sighed, his hands dropping from the towel as he left it draped around his neck. "I don't know what to say."

"Well, I won't tell you that I'm sorry. Or that it'll get better. Or that you should try being happy because that's what she would have wanted. Hephaestion knows I didn't want to hear it either."

He heard her hand pat the bench. "But I will ask if you'll sit with me."

"It's different with you and Cloud," Zack muttered, but he obeyed anyways. He'd learned it was better to do so when a woman made a demand. "You loved him."

The moment he sat, Aeris grabbed his arms, pulling him backwards into her embrace. He was surrounded by the soft, sweet scent of honeysuckle and Zack closed his eyes, a pang of sorrow rushing through him. There was a lump in his throat no amount of swallowing could pass.

Cushioned against her front, he felt the rumble of her words as she gently set her cheek against the top of his damp hair. "You didn't love Elena?"

"I don't know," Zack answered, allowing himself to soak in her comfort like one would a hot, steaming bath. "I cared for her a lot. But love? Do I even know what that means?"

"You can't blame yourself for not caring as much as you think you should," Aeris murmured soothingly. "Otherwise, you would just be lying."

There was a tightening in his chest no amount of breathing would ease. "I should have," he returned, spitting back the same he had thrown at Sephiroth.

Zack felt guilty for that, pushing away his best friend when Sephiroth had only wanted to help. But there was a strange part of him that didn't want to show his weakness to Sephiroth because he was so used to being the strong one that never fell apart. He was always the one who smiled and laughed, who forgave.

Who picked up the pieces and put them back together again.

"There's no such thing as 'should'," Aeris retorted softly, her arms a warm comfort.

He remembered this from long ago, the soft smell of flowers that always surrounded her. The general feeling of peace that she exuded. Zack had remembered even then thinking that she was too pure for someone like him. But he relished in that purity, bathed in it as though it would heal something broken inside of him.

Elena wasn't pure at all. She was a ShinRa employee through and through, just like him. Perhaps even worse since she was Turk. She had seen just as much as Zack, and again, probably worser things. She smelled of blood and smoke and thunder. And it was no better, no worse. It was Elena and that was all that mattered to him.

She was spitfire and passion and though they didn't _need_ each other – not like their best friends needed them – they _had_ each other and that was what mattered. It was comfort and familiarity and yes, sex, but more than that, too.

But love?

The heat behind his eyes wasn't going away. And the more Zack thought about her – blue eyes and blond hair and quiet gasps in the night and smirking lips – the tighter his chest grew. He squeezed his eyes, but they came out anyway, sliding one by one down his cheek.

What happened to being strong?

"It's not a weakness," Aeris murmured, and it took that long for Zack to realize that he'd said the last aloud.

He didn't respond; he didn't have the words. He sucked in a breath, drew his bottom lip between his teeth, but once they started, the tears wouldn't stop. They came, like opening a floodgate, dampening his cheeks and sliding down the sides of his face. Into his ears and down his neck, eventually caught by the towel.

He missed her. By Kami, he missed her.

It had only been a day or so. Perhaps more. But her absence was already felt in his life. He felt it so acutely, as though she had been gone for weeks or months. And maybe that was because they rarely found time for just one another. Zack didn't know. But there was this hole inside of him where all his regrets about what he never managed to do or say echoed loudly.

"All the time in the world," he managed, cursing himself inwardly. "But really, no time at all."

Aeris leaned over him, her face pressed against his, heedless of his tears. She shushed him, silently giving him permission to cry. And Zack gratefully heeded the approval.

He wept.

---------

They were here because Reeve had called them. And though he was only president of the WRO, he carried a sense of command and most of them were soldiers. So on they came, trudging along, a motley group of heroes.

Sephiroth was among them, though his own emotions felt pulled through a wringer. Judging by the expressions of his friends – his family – they felt the same way. But Reeve had a point. They couldn't force those boys to sit in confinement forever. A decision had to be made and it wasn't fair to make Reeve take responsibility for that alone.

Though it wasn't exactly a merry bunch of heroes that gathered in the conference room. They trudged inside, dropping into their seats with a complete lack of enthusiasm. Several were missing – by choice – and one normally occupied seat was all the more obvious for its lack of resident.

A single glance at the chair was all it took to spiral the mood in the room further into sorrow.

Sephiroth could practically taste the gloom on his tongue. He winced, feeling cloaked by the desperate emotion. He understood the necessity of the meeting, but it still felt too soon to him. They all looked exhausted, as though they wanted nothing more to do with war and politics. And Yuffie and Nanaki were noticeable, if only for their absence.

Tseng – in particular – was tense, sitting stiffly in his seat with a severe expression. Sephiroth hadn't had chance to talk to his lover before this meeting, Tseng having disappeared a few hours prior without explanation. Not that they required intimate knowledge of each other's whereabouts at any time of the day. He suspected it had something to do with a request from Reeve; Sephiroth didn't ask and Tseng didn't volunteer.

His eyes wandered to the window as the seats were filled. It was grey just beyond the half-drawn blinds. A grey, gloomy morning. Sephiroth suspected it would rain today. Those darker clouds looked to mean a storm.

"All right, Reeve. Get this party started," Cid said gruffly. "Some of us got work to do."

Though lacking tact as always, Cid's demand cut through the low murmur of conversation and effectively called the meeting to order. Internally, Sephiroth was grateful that he was there to speed business along. He couldn't deny that he wanted nothing more than to finish his own responsibilities and crawl into bed, to sleep forever if possible.

The president cut his eyes at the pilot, repressing a sigh. "This is work as well," he reminded Cid before turning to the others. "I would have put this off longer but I felt the matter needed to be dealt with sooner rather than later."

"We understand," Vincent assured him, while his lover snorted, but wisely refrained from commenting. "Just explain. Cid is right in one thing: we are all tired."

"It's about Kadaj and his brothers, isn't it?" Aeris questioned softly, her presence surprising Sephiroth because – admittedly – she had been left a little out of the loop as of late. Mostly in deference to her need to care for the children, including her own.

Reeve nodded slowly, reluctance seeping into his expression. "They have submitted without complaint to imprisonment for the better part of a week. And though they have committed several crimes, it is unfair to force it without making some sort of decision."

"And you are reluctant to execute them," Sephiroth stated with sudden understanding, otherwise Reeve would have done it already. But he knew the president, just as he knew those surrounding him. They would not kill in such a manner.

Perhaps Reno would be capable of such a thing if ordered to do so. Tseng, yes. Sephiroth himself and Zack as well. If such an action were demanded of them. But the others were softer, less militarily inclined. Sephiroth already knew where this meeting was headed, not that he was against Reeve's probable suggestion to free them.

Their situation mimicked his own in too many ways for his comfort. He would be hypocritical if he tried to judge those three boys for their actions.

Reeve shifted, remarkably composed for the tension rising in stifling degrees around the table. "I would prefer not to invite more death," he admitted. "Though I will not make this decision alone."

"Let's skip past the point of what they've done, everyone knows that," Archer suggested, a strange look in his eyes. Only vaguely did Sephiroth remember that he seemed to have some connection to the one of the brothers. "What do you want to do?"

"They're dangerous," Reno retorted, lazily dancing a gil over his knuckles, as though bored with the conversation. But it was clear he was paying close attention. Apparently, husband and husband weren't entirely in agreement. "That can't be denied."

"I'm not so sure," Reeve began slowly, and when several incredulous looks turned his way, he held up a hand, continuing, "I'm not denying their abilities as they were altered much like Sephiroth. They are strong, and were clearly not completely within their own minds. Were being the operative word here."

Cid arched one brow, pulling a toothpick out of nowhere and jamming it between his lips. "Who's to say they're not still plum-fuckin' nuts?"

As though expecting the question Reeve turned towards the Wutaiian, fully composed. "Tseng?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Tseng inclined his head, shifting in obvious discomfort. "There is no trace of Jenova within them."

The president nodded, gesturing vaguely. "That's one point in their favor," he murmured, rubbing fingers across his chin.

Sephiroth's brow furrowed, his eyes darting between the two men as understanding grew inside of him. "You had him _invade_ their _minds_?" he demanded, voice coming out an annoyed hiss. His fingers curled into fists.

Tseng winced at the term. "Not exactly," he corrected quietly, the reason for his discomfit suddenly much more obvious. "I asked for their permission first. They agreed."

"Like they had a choice," Sephiroth retorted sharply, fighting back a stab of betrayal. "Those boys aren't stupid. They know what it takes to be given freedom."

Reeve's fingers tapped against the table, the others in the room holding their breath at the discussion that bounced between the three men. "And what you have me do? Loose those three boys back on the world without taking every precaution?" He shook his head, expression firm. "I am not subjecting the people – my _daughter_ – to that risk."

Sephiroth resisted the urge to bang his fist on the table as it would do nothing but provide an immature expression of his anger, even as he sat forward in his chair. "You've no idea what it's like to have someone invade your mind," he snarled, remembering all too well Jenova's poisonous fingers, her sibilant whispers, her pressing demands....

No, he would never understand.

The president flinched, and swallowed thickly, sharing a brief glance with his lover. "On the contrary," he argued, significantly more softer than before. "I do, courtesy of Kadaj. I don't know what he intended, but that glimpse into madness is more than I plan to ever suffer again."

Uneasy silence slipped into the conference room, anger briefly darkening Reno's face as he recalled the instance in the office where Kadaj had attacked Reeve. He still bore a grudge for that. And it was never good to let a former Turk carry a grudge. They knew all the particularly nasty tortures. Or at least, the more humiliating ones.

Vincent was the one to break the quiet. "Thanks to their cooperation, we can come to an agreement," he said with a pointed look towards Reeve. "Is that not what you were implying?"

The president inclined his head. "Correct. I propose we release them into our custody. That way, my concerns for the people will be assuaged, and they will have a measure of freedom. Despite my reservations, I do feel uneasy about limiting them to a life of confinement."

"Babysitting," Cid muttered with disgust, kicking out his foot. He chewed on his toothpick with a disgruntled expression. "S'what it sounds like ta me."

Amusement curled Reeve's lips. "Precisely. Reno and I will look after Yazoo. For Reis' sake since she has pleaded on his behalf."

"And I will watch over Loz," Vincent inserted, despite his lover's wide-eyed look and prompt disagreement.

As they argued quietly amongst themselves, with Valentine clearly coming out the victor, Archer was quick to volunteer himself. "And I will take Kadaj," he announced.

Reno rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, I'm sure you will," he muttered, with a cutting look towards the engineer.

Red flushed Archer's cheeks. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded," he returned.

"Is he even qualified?" Reno added, displaying an unusual amount of force in this matter.

The engineer drew pack a pace, looking to launch himself from his chair and only barely restraining him. "What the hell--"

Surprisingly, it was Zack to cut into the conversation. "He will be if I help, too," Zack inserted quietly, surprising Sephiroth with both the offer and the words. He hadn't spoken much and Sephiroth cut a glance at him, silently apologizing for being unable to help his best friend.

Zack didn't seem to notice, and Sephiroth lost the chance to attract his attention when Archer grew more agitated with increasing accusation.

"He's not a child!"

Reno snorted. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that," he muttered, leaning back in his chair with a dangerous air about him.

Reeve shot both his husband and Archer a warning look, the face of the president formidable. "Enough! This is neither the time nor the place for _that _particular discussion."

Which, of course, implied that it would be continued at a later date. Sephiroth had a feeling it wouldn't involve everyone in their group, not that it was the sort of thing that should be debated at all. Honestly, that was the one thing he did hate. Their propensity to stick their noses in everyone else's business.

"Oh no. I think now is the _perfect_ time for this," Reno countered, a strangely hostile note in his tone. Of all people to disagree, Sephiroth wouldn't have expected it to be the red-haired Turk who had less than stellar morals...

Archer twisted his jaw, the flush in his face deepening with increasing anger. "My personal life is _not _up for debate."

"Archer, he's a _child_," Reeve pressed, resigned to the fact that they seemed determined to discuss this here and now, rather than in private as he had originally intended. "You're over twice his age!"

Archer glared, shoulders bristling. "You're one to talk," he growled, his eyes cutting from president to Turk. "Reno was the same age when you two met."

"And the difference between us then was only ten years," Reeve countered, though he paled in remembrance. But then, it had been hard to think of Reno as a child, Reno having been forced to grow up quickly on the streets. "Are you that desperate--"

"_Desperate_!" Archer repeated, dangerously approaching a shriek.

All other matters were apparently forgotten as the other members of the group watched this heated discourse between the three men, two of them close to being best friends. Sephiroth himself had no opinion as he didn't think it would matter. But to him, Kadaj was no more a child than anyone in this room.

Archer hauled himself to his feet, violet eyes blazing. "What kind of person do you think I am?" he demanded. "You have no idea of the agony I faced over this! You think it was easy?"

"And yet you couldn't say no," Reeve retorted.

A bevy of emotions flickered over the engineer's face, his fingers turning white-knuckled over the table. Archer twitched, and then stilled, his entire body drawing eerily still.

"Fine," he forced out through gritted teeth. "I don't expect you to understand. And I'm not going to bother to try either. I'm done here."

With that, Archer whirled away from the table and stormed from the room, letting the door slam shut behind him with a loud, defining bang.

Reeve flinched and sighed, lifting a hand to rub it across his forehead, looking very much the defeated man.

"Well, that went slightly less than well," Cid muttered, chomping down on his toothpick and spraying bits of wood across the tabletop.

Amber eyes tossed him a glare. "I didn't see you making an effort to disagree," Reeve retorted.

The pilot shrugged, leaning back in his seat and propping a boot on the edge of the table. "Cause I couldn't care less what Archer chooses to do. He's a grown-ass man. And as far as I can tell, so is Kadaj. Ain't nothin' child-like bout a brat like that. So I don't know what you think you're protectin'."

"You should be more worried about Archer than Kadaj," Vincent inserted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "He's the one who has the most to lose."

Reeve let out a slow breath. "All that is a moot point anyways. He's not going to listen to anything we say."

"Then that's his decision to make. It's his life, not ours," Tseng commented. "We have far more important things to worry about. Such as the fate of the three brothers. Are we agreed on allowing their freedom?"

"I don't see why we gotta care about a bunch of murderers!" Barret snarled, rising to his feet with a fist pounding the tabletop. "They killed Marlene! You just gonna let 'em get away with that?"

His words rang through the room, reminding everyone of the pall of gloom that still lingered. A week had passed, but it was not enough to ease the thick grief. And Barret had a valid point. There were too many in the room who should wish for the deaths of the three brothers, rather than their freedom.

"Shall we become murderers as well?" Reeve countered, his voice strained. "We all loved Marlene, Barret, but even you should know that we would be no better by executing them, because that is what you are asking for, an outright execution."

"Imprisoning them forever works jes fine, too," the gunman retorted, crossing his arms over his beefy chest. "I don't want them loose in the world, decidin' to go all freaky just 'cause Mama comes callin' again."

Sephiroth wanted to argue, to rise to his feet and defend those three boys, but the words would mean nothing coming from him. Barret despised and blamed Sephiroth as much as he blamed Kadaj and his brothers. His words would only increase Barret's ire, and even Sephiroth knew that the man had a valid point. They had killed.

But then, so had Sephiroth. So had half the people sitting in this room. Reno had destroyed the entire sector five plate in Midgar on ShinRa's orders. Valentine had been an assassin for the Turks. Zack and Sephiroth were SOLDIERs, with numerous Wutaiian deaths under their belts. Even Archer and Cid had done a stint in the army and air force respectively

None of them were blameless or innocent. And Sephiroth knew for a fact that Barret had probably killed someone before, too. He was the original mastermind behind Avalanche after all. How many had died when he destroyed the reactor? Had he ever stopped to consider that?

Oh sure, it was history, but that didn't mean it should be discounted. If Barret wanted to start pointing fingers at murderers, he needed to start with himself.

Fortunately for Sephiroth, someone else understood the very same points he had been debating.

"Barret, have you even looked around this table?" Aeris said quietly. "Have you even seen who you are surrounded by? Have you looked at yourself?"

The large man paused, blinking in confusion. "What're you--"

"How many people do you think I've killed?" Reno interjected, strange to hear it from him, who had every reason to hate the brothers. "Or Tseng? Or Reeve even? Do you think that even I can count them anymore?" A haunted look entered his blue eyes, shadowed by memories of the past. "We're all murderers in one way or another. And look where it's gotten us."

Barret blanched, a sizable feat considering his skin tone, and backtracked a step. "But--"

"I should feel the same as you," a voice inserted softly, startling everyone because Zack had been mostly silent throughout the extent of the meeting. "Because of them, Elena was killed. So I should hate them just as much. I should want nothing more than their deaths."

Zack paused to catch his breath, letting his words sink in. Sephiroth looked to his best friend worriedly, but Zack's eyes burned with sorrow and determination both. Aeris' kindness had indeed helped to ease his pain.

His hands clenched slowly, shoulders slumping. "But I am just as guilty as they," Zack continued, and he looked up, meeting Barret's eyes evenly. "And so are you."

Barret spluttered, words lost to him at Zack's soft accusation. He twisted his jaw, a proper response escaping him.

Aeris sighed, leaning back in her chair. "We could sit here and argue all night. We could place blame and demand justice and grow angrier in grief. But it will get us nowhere. The cycle _must _end. Can't you see that?" Jade eyes gazed imploringly around the table, beseeching Barret thoroughly.

The gunarmed man muttered a curse, dropping back into his seat. "That's not fair, Aeris. You can't look at me like that." He covered his face with his palm, looking defeated. "Just what am I 'sposed ta tell Marlene, huh? How am I 'sposed ta face Dyne?"

"That is something you will have to solve for yourself," Reeve said, though he was not without sympathy for the grieving man. "But I do know that demanding blood isn't the best option for any of us."

Barret slumped, letting the action for itself. He offered no other comment.

"So... we're letting them go," Reno said slowly, voice approaching a drawl. "That's what your gettin' at, yo?"

"Do you see any other option?" Tseng asked pointedly, and no one had anything else to say. "We won't kill them. We can't lock them up indefinitely. There's no choice but to release them into our custody."

Vincent inclined his head, grey eyes solid and firm. "As much as we wish to hate them, I can't find it in me to do so. I pity them more than anything."

"_It's not their fault. So don't hate them, Mr. Sephiroth. They just wanted to be loved like anyone else. And they need someone to protect them." _

Marlene's words rang in the back of his mind. Sephiroth wished he wasn't the only one to have heard them.

"That damn Hojo's a piece of work," Cid muttered darkly, lips twisting into a scowl. He held no love for the mad scientist. There wasn't anyone in the room who would disagree.

"If it comes down to it, we'll just take them down again," Reno agreed, though the gaze he exchanged with Reeve proved the conversation wasn't over.

Tseng inclined his head. "Indeed. It is the only thing we can do."

He spoke with a sense of finality that there was no choice but to settle the matter as concluded.

"There is one more matter requiring our attention," Reeve said quietly, gathering their attention just as Cid began to rise, thinking it over. The pilot dropped back into his seat with a sullen look.

"It has been several days," Reeve continued, "I know this is difficult for everyone so I arranged everything myself."

"The funeral," Tseng realized aloud, proving that he had not been one of the president's conspirators. No, likely Reeve had sought Valentine's help, or Highwind's, wanting someone who wasn't as emotionally involved.

Or perhaps this explained Nanaki and Yuffie's absence.

Reeve nodded, rubbing fingers briefly over his face, highlighting his fatigue. Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder if the president had even bothered to rest yet. Knowing Reeve, that was unlikely. He wouldn't allow it until everything had been solved. Or Reno knocked him over the head and forced it. Whichever came first.

Sephiroth highly suspected it would be the latter. And tonight, if Reno's concerned look was any indication.

"We must say goodbye," the president explained. "I've set it for tomorrow afternoon, should the weather hold, in Kalm."

"By Cloud," Aeris murmured, taking in a slow breath. "That's a good idea, Reeve. Thank you."

"I took the liberty of purchasing the entire plot," Reeve continued, his eyes tracking over all of them. "For the far-away future."

Well, they all _hoped_ it was far away. With Gaia constantly stricken with strife, it was difficult to say how long this peace would last. Personally, Sephiroth hoped it never ended. He was tired of battle and blood and pain and watching grief take over the lives of those who meant most to him.

"Always looking to the future, that's Reeve for ya," Cid inserted, and rose to his feet with a languid stretch, shattering the lightly-tense atmosphere. "Was that all, Mr. President? 'Cause frankly, all of us look to be asleep in our chairs."

A quick glance around only proved the captain's point. Zack looked to have been pulled out of bed, judging from the dark circles under his eyes, and Reeve himself seemed no better. Reno lacked his spark of energy and Sephiroth himself wouldn't mind a night's sleep without the emotional strain that accompanied the last few.

Reeve waved a hand. "Yes, Cid, that's all. You're free to go." A touch of amusement curled his lips.

Sephiroth stood with the others, just as relieved that business was concluded. He hadn't gotten two steps out the door before Tseng appeared at his side, something hesitant in his eyes. Which was unusual. Tseng rarely hesitated about anything.

"I didn't say anything because I knew you would object," he explained, diving into conversation without so much as an acknowledgment.

"I'm not angry," Sephiroth assured him, though admittedly, he had been.

Unfortunately, he could understand their worry. Once upon a time, he had been infected with madness as well. Once upon a time, he hadn't been trusted. He shouldn't fault them for trying to ensure that the three boys weren't a threat. And the fact that permission had been sought was a point in their favor.

Still, it bothered Sephiroth. But he wasn't angry.

Tseng looked at him, silver eyes solidly assessing. "You aren't exactly pleased either."

"It's not something I'd like to argue about," Sephiroth retorted. His eyebrow twitched. "It's my own personal demons."

Tseng wasn't quite convinced, but he was the one who could sense tiny nuances in emotions, not Sephiroth. Sooner or later he would understand.

He inclined his head. "Very well." He paused in the hallway, causing Sephiroth to pause as well. "I have to discuss deployment with Reeve. But... dinner?"

They almost sounded like a real couple. And that thought made Sephiroth smile just a tad. He nodded. "Yes. Dinner is fine. Eight?"

"Sounds good." Tseng turned as if to leave before hesitating and shifting back towards Sephiroth.

The former General had no warning save for a faint gleam in silver eyes before Tseng grabbed him. A mouth fell over his, lips pressing urgently, and a tongue quickly followed. Sephiroth's back hit the wall, an armful of Tseng nearly climbing into his hold, before it was over as swiftly as it began.

Tseng drew back, ever the picture of composure, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "Tonight," he said again, and turned to stride down the hall.

Leaving Sephiroth to stare after him in stunned disbelief, his lips tingling and his body heated with no relief in sight.

* * * *

a/n: Next update to come on the 21st! Keep an eye out for it. We are drawing closer and closer to the end. I do hope you enjoy!

Coming up next: Interlude 9: Melody of Memories in which Cid reveals his new airship, Nanaki burns some potatoes, and Tseng finds out one of Sephiroth's not-so-scary secrets.


	29. Interlude 9: Melody of Memories

a/n: Last interlude of the series! I do hope you enjoy! And I think I included everybody's suggestions. I tried to, at least. Enjoy!

Warnings for self-beta'ed, language, boykisses, hints to het smut.

**Shattered Children: Interlude Nine**

**Melody of Memories**

Warm breath ghosting over his ear. A rough hand grazing down his spine. Vincent stirred from a dreamless sleep, unconsciously tilting towards the lips nibbling at his ear.

"Morning," Cid whispered in his ear, voice gruff from whatever he had been doing prior to waking Vincent.

Peeling open his eyes, Vincent languished in the shivers that pricked his skin. "It's early," he murmured, glancing at the clock. "Especially for you."

Cid slid into the bed beside him, fully clothed and smelling of morning dew. "It would be early if I'd managed to sleep," he answered, pressing against Vincent from behind and burying his face into black hair.

"You don't sound sleep-deprived."

Indeed, Cid was practically vibrating with energy. Even Vincent could sense it, the vigor seeping into his own languid senses and stirring Vincent to full wakefulness.

Lips pressed against the back of his neck. "Come with me. I've somethin' to show ya," Cid urged, though his fingers spoke another request, creeping around Vincent's front and splaying across his bare abdomen.

"Not another supply closet I hope."

Vincent's wry comment was received with annoyance, which Cid displayed by playfully biting the back of his shoulder, leaving the faint impression of teeth behind. "No, this is important. C'mon, Vince. Get _up_." His tone was very nearly a whine.

"You sound as giddy as a child," Vincent commented, though his lips curled upwards in a smile. The captain's energy was infectious.

"_Vincent." _

Chuckling to himself, Vincent forced his body to rise, dislodging the clinging arms of his bedmate. "I'm up, Highwind."

He looked over his shoulder, dark hair hiding his expression as he took in that of his lover's. Cid looked tired, but still radiated energy. A grin stretched his lips, even as he sat there in rumpled clothing, even a cute streak of grease – from some sort of engine no doubt – across one cheek.

Vincent arched one brow. "And what have you been diving in?"

Cid grinned, blue eyes sparkling. "Come with me and I'll show you." He very nearly bounced in place, just like a child.

Honestly, he was too old to be acting as such.

"Give me a minute to put on some clothes," Vincent said, sighing loudly as though making some great acquiescence, though in all honesty he was curious. He knew Cid was involved in a pretty big project, and as such, hadn't seen much of his lover. Perhaps these were the final results?

A hand reached for him even as Vincent rose from the bed, narrowly missing a pale hip by a scant few inches. "You don't have to," Cid leered, licking his lips pointedly.

"I do if this thing you want to show me is in public," Vincent retorted dryly.

The captain just laughed and launched himself from the bed, wagging a finger at him. "Fine, get dressed. I'll wait in the living room or I'll just be tempted to take advantage of you."

As if such a thing were possible. They both knew good and well who the stronger one was here. Shaking his head, Vincent waved off his lover and idly listened as Cid left the room.

Vincent dressed quickly, staring distastefully at the brightly colored clothing that Cid had bought and replaced most of his with for the sake of their "vacation". It revealed too much for his skin, but it was also too hot to wear layers. He relented for the sake of comfort, though he vowed to make every article of palm-printed material disappear the moment they left Mideel.

And every last sandal.

Lastly, Vincent pulled the length of his hair into a low ponytail and left from the room without bothering to check his appearance. It was just before dawn and if there were anyone awake to see and mock him, he didn't bother enough to care. It was only an hour or so before his usual waking time, yet it somehow felt too early.

Cid paced back and forth in the living room of the guest house they had rented out for an undetermined period of time. He had taken the time to at least change his shirt and splash water on his face, looking a bit less sleep-deprived. Energy vibrated in every motion.

"Vince! You wore the shirt!" Glee filled his voice, and a hint of teasing.

Looking down at himself, Vincent realized with horror that he had indeed grabbed the one item he loathed out of the entire collection. Of course, the pink and green palm tree print was Cid's favorite.

Refusing to rise to the bait, Vincent eyed his lover. "Wasn't there something you wanted to show me?"

Cid moved to his side, latching an arm around Vincent's and bodily dragging him along. "Yeah, there was. C'mon. It's not far."

He followed as Cid lead him from the guest home and into the cool morning, the sun rising on the horizon, a dawning of oranges and reds beneath the lid of grey clouds. Mideel was a town gently waking, a few citizens rising to open windows and welcome the morning chill before the afternoon heat forced everyone indoors.

Vincent didn't know why, but something was making him bathetic. Perhaps it was the air.

He followed Cid as the captain led him out of the main thoroughfare – where the welcome sign had been recrafted and reposted – and into the wild jungle of the Mideelan island. Vincent recognized the path. It was the same they had initially taken in their search for elusive ruins... only to stumble upon a hidden machine beneath the dirt.

He knew that Cid had been devoting time and effort to restoring the alien device, but Vincent wasn't expecting much out of the rusting heap of metal. Who knew how long it had lain buried? And who knew just what kind of electronics comprised the thing? There was no guarantee they could get it uncovered, much less up and running. But Vincent was not one to protest Cid's excitement.

"Okay? Close your eyes."

Vincent sighed. "Cid--"

Hands lifted, covering his face and shielding his eyes from whatever the dawning sun sought to illuminate. And yet, they still moved steadily forward, though Vincent was decidedly more cautious in each placement of his foot.

"Would it kill ya to play along for once?"

Squaring his jaw, Vincent obediently closed his eyes. "If I trip and fall in a ditch I will never participate in one of your surprises again."

Cid merely laughed, and Vincent patiently bowed to his whim. Just this once as it seemed to make Cid happy.

He could not see, but his ears worked just fine. And soon he detected a sound, that of a low hum, the gentle whirr of blades cutting through the air, like a helicopter but much less fierce. Vincent frowned, trying to place the sound; he wouldn't quite call it noise as it was pleasant to his ears. Much quieter than the Highwind had been at any rate, and definitely softer than a helicopter.

"I thought it would take longer," Cid started to explain, raising his voice a bit to be heard, but not having to strain. "Surprisingly, there was little left for me to do but attack it with soap and a scrub brush and replace a few fuses."

"Cid, what are you talking about?"

The pilot chose that moment to stop, prompting Vincent to stop as well. "Open your eyes and see," Cid urged, and Vincent could practically hear the grin in his voice.

Humoring his lover, Vincent opened his eyes slowly, only to blink in astonishment.

An airship stood silver and solemn against the morning sky, its rotors turning quietly in the breeze. It was massive, an impressive example of machinery, similar in design to the Highwind, but much sleeker. It was likely faster, more agile, capable of trickier maneuvers. It gleamed in the early light, patiently awaiting its first flight.

For one of the few times in his life, Vincent found himself speechless. He knew Cid had been working on a project, but had thought that his lover had given up on the buried aircraft. He had thought Cid deemed it improbable, but here it was, in all its glory. At least, Vincent assumed this was the buried ship. He couldn't think of another way for Cid to build one within a month's time.

And then his eyes tracked to the freshly painted icon decorating the side, where the ship's name was emblazoned in bright red, a swirl highlighting each letter.

_Valenwind_.

"You...." Speechless, Vincent found no words.

Cid just grinned, practically brimming with pride. "You didn't think I'd get it working, didja? Well, I did. And it's going to be even better than the Highwind. My masterpiece."

"It's beautiful."

"Aye." Cid nodded, curling one arm around Vincent pulling him forward, where a ladder waited to give them a lift to the upper level. "Even more so inside."

Interested despite himself, Vincent followed Cid up the ladder and onto the first deck of the Valenwind. He chuckled as he recognized the lady from the Highwind painted on the floor.

"You couldn't resist, could you?"

Cid grinned. "She's my Lady Luck."

Shaking his head, Vincent gestured to the far doorway. "Lead on, Captain. Show me what you're so proud of."

And Cid did, guiding him through long hallways and open space, and a room filled with computers that Cid admitted not even he was sure what they did. Past humming engines and interesting rooms, and even a glimpse of the captain's quarters, sparsely furnished at the moment and only waiting on their belongings.

Lastly, Vincent was taken to the cockpit, where he was treated to the sight of the sun rising in all its glory, every inch of the dawn in view thanks to the entire wall of glass windows. Several consoles were scattered throughout the broad room, presently unoccupied, and on a higher dais the captain's wheel stood prominent.

It was absolutely incredible.

"She's three times as fast, twice as maneuverable, and doesn't run on mako energy, but something else. Something called jet fuel. I don't understand it properly, but I will," Cid assured him, pulling Vincent up the steps to the captain's wheel.

Vincent shook his head. "In less than a month, you managed all this? It seems unbelievable."

His lover laughed, scratching at his chin. "You'd be surprised how many people were willing to join my crew. And like I said, there actually wasn't much more for me to do than dust it off. It's like the technology was just sleeping, waiting for someone like me ta come along."

Vincent stood behind the wheel, lifting his hands and tracing fingers over the well-crafted wood, completely smooth. The entire vista of the Mideelan landscape stretched out in front of him through the windows, and from here, the rest of the consoles of the Valenwind waited patiently. It really was amazing.

"Have you given up on the stars then?" Vincent asked, well remembering Cid's desire to return to space since his previous visit had been unplanned and unexpected.

The captain stepped up, arms encircling Vincent from behind. "The technology in this thing'll probably teach me a better way to get there, but until then, this thing is already perfect." He felt Cid's face press against the back of his shoulder, not quite tall enough to lay chin atop his shoulder.

"It _is_ fascinating," Vincent murmured. "But I am more interested in the fact that you can fly again. Cid Highwind does not seem the same man without his wings."

The arms around him tightened. "Was I that different?" Cid asked, a strange note to his voice.

"Only to someone who knows you as well as I do," Vincent reassured, and shifted in Cid's arms, turning until he faced his lover. "I could tell that you missed the sky. You were not meant for the ground."

Again, the bathetic feeling penetrated Vincent's thoughts and words, turning him unnecessarily sappy. He wasn't too bothered by it. For all his bluster and bluff, Cid was actually a man who enjoyed hearing such things.

"Heh." Cid laughed lightly. "And only you know me so well. What say you we end this vacation then?"

Before Vincent could even formulate an answer, or compose something witty in return, the sound of a ringing cell phone filled the silence of the morning. Vincent knew it wasn't his own – he kept it on constant silent – and judging by Cid's annoyed curse, it was not only his, but the caller was Reeve.

Cid only cursed like that when Reeve called, because nine times out of ten, the president of the WRO wanted something impossible made possible.

Another muttered curse and Cid pulled away with obvious reluctance, reaching for the jangling phone. He flipped it open and answered, eyes narrowed with annoyance.

Vincent didn't bother to listen in; Cid would explain later. He simply smiled softly and returned his gaze to the beautiful view. Everything was in its proper place, as it should be.

And something which had started to tighten uneasily in his belly without him realizing it, sighed in relief.

-------

Yuffie woke to the smell of something cooking, and pleasant sounds of the same emanating from her open doorway. Her stomach growled in appreciation and she smiled as she rose from the bed, stretching languidly. The sun shone pleasantly through half-open blinds, giving a cheery cast to her bedroom.

She threw on a t-shirt and some shorts, splashed water over her face, and then headed towards the kitchen, her nose her guide. Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Yuffie stepped into the cream and yellow kitchen, searching out the source of an obvious breakfast. She smiled, catching sight of Nanaki standing at the stove, tail twitching back and forth as he cooked.

He was even wearing an apron. She was pretty sure she'd never seen anything more adorable in her life. Giggling to herself, Yuffie crept across the floor – an easier feat to the lack of shoes – and promptly threw her arms around him from behind.

"Mmmm, what'cha cooking?" she asked, rubbing her cheek against his broad, _bare_ back. He smelled good, beyond the scent of what seemed to be frying meats and potatoes. He smelled like Nanaki, all strength and intelligence and oncoming autumn.

He didn't even startle at her approach, having long heard her coming. "Breakfast. Hungry?"

"Very," Yuffie purred, her fingers splayed over his bare abdomen.

Her palm pressed against flat muscles, index finger tracing the line of hair that disappeared into the band of the sleep pants he had pulled on. They were specially designed to suit his tail, the whole wardrobe a gift from Reeve and some rather expensive tailors. Not that Yuffie was complaining. He looked great in them.

Nanaki laughed as Yuffie felt heat coil languidly in her belly. "For food or something else?" A spatula scraped in a pan as he reached with a second hand to grab the shaker, sprinkling salt over his potatoes.

"Definitely both," Yuffie murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.

She couldn't seem to stop touching him. Ever since they had reconciled, recognizing what they were to one another, she couldn't seem to keep her hands away. She wanted to run her hands over him everywhere, to cover his body in kisses. To experience that blinding rush of pleasure all over again.

One hand traveled lower, her palm pressing against his groin, cupping it gently. She was gratified to find that he was half-hard beneath her fingers, and stiffening by the moment. Grinning, Yuffie deviously palmed him, stroking him through the thin cotton. She heard Nanaki's breath hitch, even as she gently bit the skin over his shoulderblade, loving the taste of his skin.

"Yuffie, I'm trying to cook," Nanaki protested, but it was weak. A protest more for the sake of, because even she could hear the want in his voice.

She pressed more firmly against his length, which rose to strain against the confines of his pants. "No one's stopping you," she teased, feeling her belly tighten. Yuffie wondered if she could tempt him enough to turn around and kiss her. She was determined to try.

Nanaki's willpower was usually far greater than hers. But she'd learned a valuable lesson. When it came to resisting temptation, he couldn't resist her. And it was a heady power, but one she learned to use sparingly. He wasn't her toy after all, but her beloved one. And she would treat him as such.

Her lips found the line of his spine, a sensitive spot for him, and her tongue followed the path of it, as far as she could reach. He shivered, and she counted the seconds – only a few – before the spatula was set to the side and Nanaki whirled.

He crushed her against him, covering her lips with his and pushing his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, grinding against his stiff length, curling her arms around his body. The edge of the table collided against her lower back as Yuffie deepened the kiss, dragging her nails lightly down her back.

Nanaki broke away from her with a gasp, his mouth latching onto her throat. Her teeth gently scraped her bare skin. "You little minx," he growled, tongue lapping over a small mark and making shivers race down her spine.

She gasped when she intended to chuckle, one of his hands finding her breast through the fabric and running his palm over it. "The kitchen table? That's different," Yuffie teased, wanting to strip off his clothes then and there.

A single lift of one clawed hand had her sitting on the edge of the table, thanking Dao-Chan and whatever god was listening that it had sturdy legs. Nanaki's mouth lowered, mouthing her nipple through cloth and Yuffie groaned, throwing her head back. Her legs encircled his hips, drawing him close and against her. Their clothed groins collided; she could feel the heat of him through the thin cotton.

Yuffie desperately wanted.

And she also smelled something burning. Her nose twitched and her eyes popped open as she stared horrified over Nanaki's shoulder.

"Breakfast!" she near-squeaked in shock.

"Yeah, that was the general idea," Nanaki retorted, his lips closing over her ear lobe and tugging gently at it.

Yuffie ignored the trill of pleasure that raced through her, giving his shoulder a hearty push. "No, I mean your breakfast is burning!" she argued, a distasteful smoke rising heavily in the air.

Golden eyes widened before Nanaki abruptly released her, nearly causing Yuffie to tumble from her precarious perch on the table.

"Damn," he cursed, hissing when he nearly burnt his fingers in an attempt to remove pan from stove. He almost dropped the skillet as he reached to turn off the burner and switched on the stovetop fan.

Yuffie, despite the heat still tingling in her veins, couldn't help but laugh at him.

Nanaki tossed her a baleful look, tipping the skillet enough that she could see the ruined mass of whatever it was inside of it. "This is partly your fault you know," he grumbled, staring mournfully at his ruined creation.

"Can you blame me?" Yuffie asked, purposefully licking her lips. Her nipples were rubbing against the cotton of her shirt and it was maddening.

"Yes. Yes, I can," Nanaki said, abandoning the ruined mass of something burnt to the side. His tail twitched behind him as he advanced on her, trapping her between his arms. "Looks like we'll have to go out for breakfast."

She looked up at him, heart thundering in her chest. "Later," Yuffie insisted, lifting one foot to rub it alongside his leg.

"Much later," Nanaki confirmed, and slanted his lips over hers again.

------

He heard loud music before he even arrived at the apartment, and Tseng cocked an eyebrow. What on Gaia was going on?

Stepping down the hall, he found the door to Zack and Sephiroth's shared apartment wide open, the heavy beat and invoking lyrics of some rock band pulsing in the air. He didn't see either man immediately and Tseng sighed, shaking his head.

He doubted Sephiroth was here in this noise, but he thought he would check anyways.

Tseng rapped his knuckles against the door because it was polite, but didn't actually expect anyone to hear it. Not over this racket. He stepped into the apartment, peering briefly into every room before following the source of the noise.

Only to stop in the entryway to the living room, a chuckle escaping his lips. There was Zack, doing of all things, vacuuming as he rocked to the music pouring from the speakers from the overly large television. He didn't know why the former SOLDIER thought it necessary to do so with the door open. Perhaps they had merely forgotten to close it?

Zack whirled, vacuum jabbing under a nearby table, and spotted Tseng mid-jab. "Tseng!" he exclaimed, the machine giving a whirr of distaste as it sucked up something that it didn't like.

He jabbed a toe forward, cutting off the machine and the light noise associated with it. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Tseng answered with amusement. "It's a little late for spring cleaning."

Zack tossed him a look. "I suppose if I made as much as you I could hire someone to do this for me," he replied dryly, and reached for a remote, clicking mute on the television and filling the room with blessed quiet. "Looking for something?"

"Sephiroth."

"I should have known." His hand raked through black spikes and Zack stepped around the couch, towards the kitchen. "He's not here. He escaped the minute I said something about cleaning up the mess." Zack gestured vaguely.

Mess? Tseng turned about in a near circle. It was spotless, other than the lingering dust from running the vacuum. He couldn't even see evidence of a former mess. Or was Zack just a closet neat-freak?

"I see," Tseng commented dubiously. "Any idea where he went?"

"The library," Zack suggested, face buried in the fridge as he moved items around to locate a soda in the back. "And if I know my best buddy, he's in the furthest corner, behind a dusty stack of history books."

Tseng hummed, not surprised. "Not entirely unexpected. Thanks, Zack. Good luck with your cleaning."

Head tipped back as he sucked down a soda, the former SOLDIER gave him a thumbs up, leaving Tseng room to excuse himself. As he stepped into the corridor, heading into the elevator, his exit was marked by a return of the loud music. He wondered if their neighbors would complain, but then, there probably weren't too many other residents on this floor.

The library was located nearly in the basement, just a single level above the archive where aging paper records were kept. In this day and age, most everything was documented in a massive computer database, but old records were still kept. Tseng rarely had occasion to enter the archives, and honestly, he hadn't much reason to visit the library either.

It was only a library in the sense that it held masses upon masses of books, but it didn't stock all kinds. It was literally a huge storehouse of history and science, nothing fictional lining the shelves. There was nothing here to capture Tseng's interest, especially since much of it was tainted by ShinRa's outlook on the past, rather than the truth of what occurred.

His nose twitched as he was assaulted by the scent of dust and aging paper. Tseng nodded curtly to the single soldier manning the desk and scanned the visible aisles. No Sephiroth in sight. Not that he would have expected to find the former General lounging in plain view.

Tseng wandered, his steps markedly noticeable in the quiet. There were no other patrons either, not that he had expected any. Most came here to find a book for research purposes, not linger.

He found Sephiroth as Zack had suggested, hiding in a faraway corner, tucked behind several large and stout bookcases. Sephiroth was curled up in a large, stiff-looking chair, a single lamp lit behind one shoulder. To Tseng's surprise, a pair of small-framed glasses perched on his noses as he read from a book placed in his lap.

It was more adorable than Tseng could find words to say. Imagine, the great General wearing glasses to read like some child stumbling upon a fantasy book of epic proportions.

Casually crossing his arms over his chest, Tseng leaned against a nearby, stout bookshelf. "I didn't know you were glasses."

Sephiroth startled, nearly dropping his book. His gaze whipped up, catching sight of Tseng standing there. An obvious moment of trying to regain his composure immediately followed.

"Only on occasion," Sephiroth explained slowly. "Fine print is difficult."

Tseng felt his lips twitch upwards into a smile. "And here I was thinking you were perfect."

"Isn't it better that I am not?" Sephiroth murmured, and his gaze slanted to the side, taking on an obvious air of distaste.

Perfection was definitely a landmine; Tseng wisely sidestepped it. He was still learning the boundaries with Sephiroth. And Kami, were there many of them.

"What are you reading?" he asked instead, moving further into the empty corner, far from the desk and what few prying eyes there might be in the nearly forgotten library. Honestly, even Tseng had forgotten it existed.

Sephiroth tilted the cover towards him. On the cover was a barely dressed woman, her bosom threatening to burst from the ties of her bodice. She was in the arms of a bare-chested man, dressed like a pirate no less, and they were looking into each other's eyes as though nothing mattered in the world but each other. The title read _My Lover, My Pirate_ and was distributed by the well known publishing house Sweet Temptations.

Tseng's eyes rounded. "Is that...?" Words escaped him. He suspected that Sephiroth liked to read but _romance_? And _trashy_ romance at that? Where on Gaia had he gotten it?

He was treated to a sour look. "Don't blame me," Sephiroth said stiffly, thumb carefully marking the page. "Zack was the one who said I should expand my horizons."

Well, that at least explained the origin of the book. Tseng had just begun to picture Sephiroth in a bookstore, buying the novel and it was a scene that pretty much broke his brain.

"Yes, but _Sweet Temptations_?"

Sephiroth snapped the book shut, embarrassment warring with indignation. "Were you looking for me?" he demanded, putting the matter of the book aside.

Amused, Tseng inclined his head. "Reeve forced me to take the afternoon off," he answered, moving closer to Sephiroth until they shared nearly the same space. "I thought we could make use of it."

He leaned over Sephiroth, one hand balanced on the arm of the plush, royal-red chair, glad that the man was sitting because it eliminated their bothersome height difference. Sephiroth smelled intoxicating, a mixture of old books and whatever soap he used, something clean and inviting. Tseng wanted to bury his face in Sephiroth's throat and lick him all over. The thoughts entered his mind suddenly, and he felt the heat flushing through him.

It was so quiet. One could hear a materia drop. More than that, he could hear Sephiroth's breathing, more rapid than it should be for only reading. Perhaps his choice in reading material had affected him more than Tseng initially thought, though he was pretty sure Sephiroth's interests lay in men and men alone. He watched as grey-green eyes flexed briefly, dilating with interest at Tseng's proximity.

"You're under the assumption that I have the afternoon free as well," Sephiroth returned mildly, but Tseng was far more experienced than Sephiroth. He detected the hitch in the former general's breathing, the way his cheeks slowly flushed.

His hand settled on Sephiroth's leg, and when he wasn't rebuffed, Tseng squeezed gently. "Don't you?" he asked, lowering his tone, making it husky.

There was something incredibly erotic about daring to do this here, where anyone could walk by, even if the library was deserted, even on a good day. And they were in the far back corner. The fact that they had to keep their voices down only heightened the sense.

Sephiroth unconsciously licked his lips. "I might. But then you are assuming I would spend my free time with you." However, he didn't shift away from Tseng's presence.

To the Turk, that was most definitely progress. Sephiroth, for all his badass General persona, was infinitely shy, and it had taken weeks to get Sephiroth to stop blushing like a schoolboy anytime Tseng casually touched him.

"Are you saying you don't want to?" Tseng asked, leaning nearer, until his breath puffed warm across Sephiroth's mouth, though their lips didn't touch.

And there it went, Sephiroth's chronic shyness, his eyes skittering away from the advancing Turk. "Tseng--"

Restraint lacking, Tseng kissed him. He figured if Sephiroth hadn't pushed him away by now, then he was in the clear to do so. True to his assumption, Sephiroth didn't resist, his mouth falling open against Tseng's kiss and letting Tseng's tongue slip inside. He coaxed a response out of the former General, encouraging Sephiroth to participate, their tongues gently tangling. And Tseng's fingers tightened on Sephiroth's leg, a moan threatening to bubble up in his chest.

Somehow, Sephiroth always had this effect on him. Turning his restraint to nothing more than pudding, and his self-control made non-existent.

Gloved hands threaded through his hair, making Tseng's scalp tingle. The touch was hesitant but determined, and the perfect mix of both set fire to Tseng's blood. He ended the kiss with a nip to Sephiroth's lips, barely restrained from disrobing the former General here in the back corner of this library.

Those glasses were incredibly sexy, Tseng noticed. He said so aloud, and was gratified by the subtle darkening of Sephiroth's cheeks. He cleared his throat noisily, reaching up to remove the pair and fold them properly.

"Zack picked them out," Sephiroth informed him, tucking the glasses safely away.

Tseng was determined to see them again. Perhaps later.

He tipped his head to the side. "About that afternoon? Are you certain you can't spare it for me?"

The book was set aside, to join a stack balanced precariously along one arm of the plush chair. "I might have a few hours to spare," Sephiroth murmured, licking his lips pointedly.

Tseng was practically giddy with excitement, mind awhirl with possibilities. He coaxed Sephiroth from the chair, entertaining thoughts of dinner with dessert to follow in the bedroom. He couldn't help but think that Reeve's offer – or order more like – to take the day off couldn't have come at a better time.

And he was going to enjoy every single minute of it.

***

a/n: Ah, how adorable!

Join us next time on September 24th for Chapter 19: Euphonious in which Kadaj and Archer make a promise, Loz meets his match, Yazoo opens his eyes, and Sephiroth extends his family.


	30. Chapter 19: Euphonious

a/n: We're almost to the end! It's a little bit sad...

Warnings: language, spoilers, self-beta, boykisses, het cuteness and kisses

**Shattered Children: Chapter Nineteen**

**Euphonious**

"You're avoiding them."

Sephiroth blinked at the odd statement, turning away from the vending machine in the lobby to find Tseng standing just behind him, gil in hand. The machine thunked as his choice dropped to the bottom. A candy bar, dinner for the masses. He hadn't time for anything else.

"Who?" he asked, shifting back to retrieve the chocolate-covered nut confection. It seemed paltry in the face of his hunger, but Sephiroth had suffered longer on less. It would suffice for now.

Tseng stepped past him, shoving gil into the machine and snapping fingers over his own selection. "Your habit of pretending ignorance can be annoying at times," he commented, but it was said with a small, sideways smile. "Kadaj and his brothers, Sephiroth. Have you even spoken to them since the battle?"

Feeling something twist uncomfortably in his belly, Sephiroth concentrated on the candy bar, slowly peeling back the wrapper. "I've been busy."

"An excuse." Extracting some bag of salty snack, Tseng turned towards him, arching one brow. "You're trying to convince yourself you have nothing to do with them."

"I don't--"

"You're _brothers_," Tseng stressed, following along as Sephiroth headed away from the machines and to the small area of couches in the lobby. Food on the go, such was the life of a WRO employee. And Sephiroth especially.

The former general frowned, distracting himself with a mix of caramel and nougat, both slathered in thick dark chocolate. "We share half blood and a history of torture and experimentation. That is all."

And Sephiroth couldn't even be certain they shared that half blood. After all, he didn't know whether to acknowledge Hojo as his blood father or not. He would prefer not.

A faint flash of disappointment flooded Tseng's gaze. "You have a bond with them, Sephiroth. Whether you like it or not. Just what are you afraid of?"

He wouldn't exactly call it a fear. Reluctance perhaps. But not a fear. Tseng was perhaps right in that Sephiroth was avoiding them. He didn't know what to say to them. Apologize for failing Hojo and being the impetus to further experiments? Apologize for being himself? Cry on each other's shoulders for the things they've suffered? No, they were what they were, just as he was what he was. They were strong. They did not share woes over suffering.

They became strong, just as he, and they fought to live.

He shook his head, lowering himself into one of the plush couches that sought to suck him into the fluffy depths. "There's nothing to fear," Sephiroth murmured. "I simply wouldn't know what to say."

"You could start by informing them of their newfound freedom." Tseng landed beside him, crunching quietly on a pretzel. "Provided Archer hasn't done it for you."

"No one's told them yet?"

Tseng shook his head, silver eyes catching Sephiroth's gaze. "I told Reeve to leave it to you."

Aghast, Sephiroth stared at Tseng in betrayal. "Why would you do that?"

He popped a few more pretzels into his mouth, swallowing before he spoke again, keeping his voice quiet as a few office workers passed by behind them. "Because you can't avoid them forever. And talking to them is the same as facing your past. You said you were ready, didn't you?"

"To tell _you_," Sephiroth argued, candy bar forgotten. "Not to go facing three clones of myself who suffered the exact same thing!"

Tseng just looked at him, as if that was reason alone, and rose to his feet. "And I'll still hear it. But first, they are waiting to hear the results of our decision. Don't stress them further."

And then his lover was gone, pretzels serving as his only meal, leaving Sephiroth to stew on the couch. He chewed on his candy bar, unwilling to call his emotion anger, but definitely sensing agitation and reluctance. Sephiroth couldn't quite explain _why_ those three boys made him uneasy, just that they did.

Sephiroth knew that Tseng was right. And now it was up to him to tell those three their fate since Tseng had helpfully dumped the task on him.

Sighing, Sephiroth tossed the last bite of the candy bar in his mouth, threw away the wrapper and headed for the elevator. He hadn't intended to visit, yet he still knew where they were being kept.

When he emerged on the proper floor, the two guards at the main door instantly saluted. Sephiroth waved off the formality.

"That's not necessary, gentlemen," he said, already moving to pass them. "You're relieved of guard duty. Report to Commander Tseng for further instruction."

"Yes sir!" They snapped to attention, saluting once more, before leaving. That, at least, Sephiroth was familiar with – military obedience.

Sephiroth continued into the main hall, an unusual silence greeting his ears. That was, except for the sound of voices at the far end. He passed by empty rooms, even ones that he knew should have been occupied, until he came to the last. He heard four separate voices – Archer was here already. He should have known. The engineer must have been here since the previous day.

Steeling himself, unable to explain the fluttering in his belly, Sephiroth stepped into the doorway, wrapping his knuckles on the frame to announce himself.

Immediately, the voices ceased and he was treated to the sight of three nearly identical boys looking up at him, one currently pressed against Archer's side.

"Sephiroth," Archer greeted warily, probably thinking him a messenger of Reeve's of some negative kind. "Have you news?"

"It's nothing different than what you last heard," Sephiroth answered, taking that as invitation to come inside. He realized he was avoiding looking at the brothers and forced his gaze their direction.

Silver hair and green eyes, pale skin, Jenova was strong in them as she was within Sephiroth. No matter what their blood parents resembled, Sephiroth and they would only ever look like that calamity from the skies. Her DNA dominated all others, one reason why he could never tell the identity of his parents, though Vincent had mentioned on numerous occasions that he resembled his moth-- Lucrecia.

They returned his look evenly. It was unnerving.

"Then...?"

Sephiroth inclined his head, wishing for somewhere to sit but finding no empty chair. They had apparently dragged in a few from other rooms.

"The three are free to go though they are still to be kept under observation."

Kadaj snorted, flicking hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head. "Not exactly freedom, but I suppose we'll take what we can get."

"It's better than execution," Yazoo commented, his eyes downcast to the floor.

"Is it?" Kadaj retorted. "Is this life even something to celebrate?"

Loz reached over and ruffled his youngest brother's hair, prompting a look of annoyance from Kadaj. "Stop talking like that, Kadaj. You're too negative."

Rolling his eyes, Sephiroth was treated to the almost belligerent glare of the youngest brother. "So? Who gets to be our babysitters?"

Sephiroth felt the urge to sigh, and he wasn't even sure why. No wonder everyone spoke of teenagers being a force to be reckoned with. "Reeve and Reno have volunteered to take in Yazoo. While Vincent and Captain Highwind have spoken for Loz."

"And you are in my care," Archer added with a grin, his fingers reaching for Kadaj's hand and holding it tightly.

Kadaj allowed the affection, leaning just a bit closer to his boyfriend? Lover? Sephiroth didn't know what to name them. In fact, he preferred not to.

"The observation is merely a precaution," Sephiroth assured them. "I was placed under the same when I first returned. It is only to be sure that Jenova is truly gone."

"Didn't your boyfriend tell you as much?" Kadaj demanded, rather hostile. "He certainly picked at our brains long enough."

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed as he bristled on Tseng's behalf. "Tseng was only trying to ascertain the possibility of Jenova's presence. And as I recall, he had your permission."

"Did we have any choice?"

"The very fact that you are alive now proves that you had a choice," Sephiroth retorted, and tension racketed up in the room as he and Kadaj traded glares.

From the side, he caught sight of Archer's wince. "Come on, you guys. You're brothers, aren't you? You shouldn't be arguing like this."

Sephiroth's gaze flickered to him briefly. "Who's arguing?"

Loz outright laughed, elbowing the second brother in the side. "It's like when two alpha dogs enter the same territory, isn't it?" he asked.

"Archer is right," Yazoo inserted quietly. "We are family. The only one we've got truthfully. What use is there in fighting?"

"We have each other. That's enough," Kadaj retorted, his eyes flashing. "We don't need _him_."

Deathly silence filled the room. Sephiroth fidgeted and told himself he wasn't, inwardly cursing Tseng. The Wutaiian had been wrong and Sephiroth still didn't understand why it was necessary he come do this. Kadaj was right; they didn't need him. Sephiroth didn't even know why he had come.

Some vague idea of family? Some half-hearted thought that maybe here he could be of some use?

It was foolish, that's what it was.

"Kadaj!"

"Ow!"

Blinking, Sephiroth looked up, staring as Kadaj rubbed at his head and Loz lowered his hand. "You're acting like a brat!" Loz chastised, for once sounding like an older brother in a position of authority. "Stop blaming Sephiroth for things that aren't his fault."

"He's still just a kid," Yazoo said by way of apology, making Sephiroth blink in surprise yet again. "Even though he would like to thank otherwise. I'm sorry for his behavior."

Kadaj glared at both of his brothers, his eyes hot enough to spout poisonous fire and the sight of it made him look just a child that had been scolded. And Sephiroth, who had been trying to hold onto his composure, found a chuckle escaping him.

Kids. They really were just kids. A trio of orphaned children, just like himself, desperately searching for something to ease the loneliness inside of them. To chase away the darkness. Just like himself.

It clicked into place then, suddenly chasing away all of the unease and the anxiety.

And now the four of them were looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, Kadaj scowling as he rubbed at his head, Loz somehow managing to appear stern, Yazoo the concerned brother who promised a dire retribution later for their behavior. And Archer, equally bewildered.

The words were easier than he expected.

"I didn't come here believing you would accept me immediately," Sephiroth said, his laughter easing off though he kept a light smile. "If you even did at all. I am not trying to usurp any position you carry, or make myself out to be some sort of leader."

Kadaj snorted. "Could've fooled me," he muttered under his breath.

Sephiroth casually ignored him, finally recognizing his actions for what they were. It almost made the youngest brother cute. _Almost. _

He continued, finding himself amused when Yazoo clapped a hand over his brother's mouth with a strict look. "We are family, even if only by half-blood, and I don't wish to abandon that. I would hope that you wouldn't either."

"We don't either," Yazoo confirmed, and there was a look in his eyes, something a lot like relief.

"Yeah," Loz agreed, with a wink and a thumbs up, the both of them heedless to Kadaj's lack of agreement. "It's better than being enemies."

Sephiroth nodded, feeling a strange calm sweeping through him. "Indeed it is."

The tension eased, and somehow, he knew know was the time to make his exit. They knew of their freedom, and he'd said what he needed to say.

"I came to let you know that I am here and I am willing. You need only ask." Sephiroth resisted the urge to bow as it was unnecessary. "I've taken the first step. I'll wait for your response."

And with that he left, feeling much lighter than he had before. Tseng had been right, annoyingly enough. There was a bond between the four of them, and Sephiroth had only to wait until they learned not to fear it as well.

Remembering the look in Yazoo and Loz's eyes, he had the feeling his wait would not be long.

----------------

"It's not much," Kadaj commented, looking around the modest apartment with a raised eyebrow. "I can see why you never invited me over."

Archer rolled his eyes, shutting the door behind him and throwing the lock. "Size had nothing to do with it. Your appearance, however, did."

Pausing in the hallway, Kadaj turned to look at him, green eye assessing, silver hair shielding one from view. He looked older somehow – the dark circles, the lines of fatigue, his cast carrying too much knowledge for Archer's comfort. And dressed casually, without the clinging battle leathers and sheath which he had not been allowed for the moment, he seemed a different person.

But he was still Kadaj. And the more Archer looked at him, the more something inside his chest managed to simultaneously squeeze and sigh in relief.

"You suspected something? Even then?"

Archer dragged fingers through his hair, thinking longingly of a shower and warm dinner, tumbling into bed beside Kadaj and possibly sleeping forever. The idea had much appeal to him, and judging from Kadaj's appearance, he wouldn't argue with it.

"I had an idea," Archer answered, and he shifted uncomfortably, thinking of his attempts to lightly question Reeve on the possibility of there being anyone else resembling Sephiroth in the world. "Not that it matters now."

"No, I don't suppose it does." That haunted look returned to Kadaj's eyes and he shifted his gaze back to the emptiness of Archer's apartment.

Admittedly, Archer hadn't spent much time here since moving in. The loneliness of it bothered him, and so he slept in the office on occasion, or accepted the traveling requests from Reeve just to not be alone. It had been quite pathetic.

But he wasn't alone now. The mysterious darkness that had lain between he and Kadaj had been thrust into the light. There was no reason for Archer to hold back, despite the lack of approval from Reeve and the others. He knew good and well what he was getting into, and if he got hurt, the only one to blame would be himself.

Archer was prepared to take that risk.

He said nothing as he swiftly crossed the floor, kicking off his shoes behind him and leaving his coat a crumpled mess in the middle of the hall. Kadaj turned at his approach, but Archer gave him no time to run away, pulling the silver-haired_ man_ into his arms. A hand buried in the metallic strands, Archer pulled Kadaj's head back and sealed his lips over Kadaj's, molding their bodies together.

Shower. Dinner. That could all come later. Right now, Archer just wanted Kadaj. Here, in his bedroom, on the floor, it didn't matter.

Archer's free hand pressed against the small of Kadaj's back, urging him closer. His mouth worked at Kadaj's, tongue slipping inside, tasting the lingering flavor of the tea Kadaj had been drinking. Something with mint and honey, sweet and tempting.

Heat sang through his veins, washing slow and steady over Archer's body. He remembered times like this, before all the recent madness. Laughter in green eyes and teasing touches and a gradual feeling of happiness seeping into his life. Archer deserved this, he knew that he did. No matter what the others said.

He broke off the kiss to drag his tongue up Kadaj's throat, curling the wet appendage around the younger man's ears. "I'm going to take you into my room and make love to you until you can't leave the bed," he murmured hotly, lust and other emotions colliding inside of him until he couldn't distinguish one from the other.

"Pervert," Kadaj accused, but lust colored his voice as well, one hand clutching onto Archer's arm for balance.

"Damn right," Archer returned, his fingers sliding from Kadaj's back to squeeze buttocks encased in loose cotton, feeling Kadaj harden against him.

Suddenly, his room wasn't close enough, and Archer broke away from Kadaj long enough to grab his arm and pull the younger man down the hall alongside him. His heart beat wildly inside his chest, threatening to escape from its bony confines. He couldn't remember a sense of want and need as powerful as the one that swept through him now. He asked himself why, but had no answer.

"_You love him, don't you_?" Reeve's words echoed in the back of his mind and Archer considered them, even as he threw open the door to the bedroom and pulled Kadaj in after him.

Kadaj didn't resist, actively curling an arm around Archer's neck and pulling him into another heated kiss. His tongue pushed into Archer's mouth, causing him to groan in want, his hands exploring cotton-covered pale skin.

And maybe Reeve was right. Perhaps Kadaj had already taken his heart. But Archer couldn't be bothered to care anymore.

Archer reached for Kadaj's shirt, stripping it off him quickly. Kadaj shivered in the air-conditioned air, wafting against his skin from the quickly turning ceiling fan. His nipples stiffened and Archer rubbed a palm against one, treated to Kadaj arching into his touch. A flush of arousal stained pale cheeks and Archer groaned, herding Kadaj back towards the bed.

He fell onto it and Archer wasted no time in stripping Kadaj of the rest of his clothes. They fell to the floor behind him and Archer lowered his hips against Kadaj's, pleased to find an arousal eager to meet his. His lips kissed a path up Kadaj's flat stomach, towards his peaked nipples.

Hands buried in his hair, Kadaj's hips eagerly thrusting against him. "Why are you still dressed?" Kadaj demanded, voice thick with want.

"An error I will remedy soon enough," Archer promised, lapping his tongue over one pink nub. Kadaj's skin tasted clean, smelling faintly of the soap he had used.

He pulled back long enough to strip off his own clothing, breathing a sigh of relief once his shaft was released into the cool air. And then Archer covered Kadaj's body with his own, curling fingers in silver hair to bring Kadaj's lips in perfect range. His tongue lapped over the other man's mouth as he ground against Kadaj, their cocks rubbing wonderfully together.

"You're never leaving my side again," he said fiercely.

Jade eyes peeled open to regard him thoughtfully. "Are you going to lock me up?" Kadaj questioned. "Confine me to a cage? Chain me down?"

Such words shouldn't have made his stomach tighten the way it did, but Archer couldn't stop the rush of emotion and heat that raced through him. "Not with anything physical," he retorted, his warm breath brushing over Kadaj's lips. "I don't think I have any chains that could keep you."

"Then how do you expect to stop me from leaving?"

Archer couldn't tell if Kadaj were only teasing him or not. He could only remember the pain in his heart when he had thought Kadaj was dead. When he realized he was condemned to loneliness once again and that he would never see that hesitant smile again. When he realized that he was as useless now as he had always been.

Heart aching, he leaned his forehead against Kadaj's shoulder. And if his hold was painfully tight, Kadaj didn't utter a word of protest. Perhaps he could sense the violent trembling Archer's body had taken.

"Stay with me," he said, and he honestly couldn't tell if it was a demand or a request or even a desperate plea.

A hand found his hair, fingers soothing through it carefully. "Idiot, when did I ever say I was leaving?" Kadaj muttered. "What happened before was not by choice."

Archer drew in a shuddering breath, wondering when their roles had switched and he became the child. "You haven't exactly said you weren't either," he reminded.

"Are you going to make me say it?"

His hold on the younger man tightened. "Please. I need to hear it. Not just assume it. I can't claim to understand you, Kadaj."

For a moment there was a painful silence, and all Archer could hear was the sound of Kadaj's breathing and the even rhythm of his heart. And then Kadaj sighed.

"I may not know the meaning of the word, but if the feelings I have inside of me are love, then that must be what I have for you," Kadaj finally said, his fingers stilling in Archer's hair and forcing the engineer to look at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Before Archer could completely absorb the words, Kadaj kissed him and Archer lost himself in the intensity of the embrace. Something inside of Archer finally eased, loosening where it had tightened, allowing him to breathe again.

Kadaj loved him. All was right with the world. Because Kadaj _loved_ him.

-------------------

"Yuffie!"

The sound of her name echoing along the corridor was the only warning Yuffie received before a laughing mass barreled into her. Grunting, she staggered against the wall, only recognizing an armful of brown-haired human that clutched at her. The voice, however, was distinctly familiar.

Yuffie gaped. "Illiana?"

"In the flesh!" Her closest best friend grinned up at her, eyes sparkling with relief and worry. "I caught a ride on the Valenwind. I was worried about you."

Blinking again, Yuffie disengaged the clinging arms from around her waist so she could breathe. "Worried?"

Illiana nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's all over the news. Everywhere!" Hands waved around in a dramatic display. "That huge thing attacked Junon and then I saw you guys fighting it! Of course I was worried!"

Yuffie's lips twitched into a smile, her heart warming even as she felt amused. "You were worried about a giant monster attacking Junon so your first thought was to _come here_, where the monster was?"

It took a moment for Illiana to digest Yuffie's words. And then, the look of relief abruptly blooded Illiana's face as she paled, covering her mouth in her shock.

"I hadn't thought about that."

Yuffie laughed, slinging an arm around her dearest friend's waist and turning her towards Nanaki so they could greet each other properly. "You'll never change, will you?"

"The monster's gone, isn't it?" Illiana demanded worriedly, forehead drawn with concern. She ignored Yuffie's question.

Nanaki lifted a clawed hand, amusement curling his lips. "Afternoon, Illiana. I trust your journey was uneventful."

Yuffie did a countdown in her head, but didn't even make it to three before Illiana launched herself at Nanaki, drawing him into an excited embrace. It had taken weeks for Yuffie to assure Nanaki that no, she wasn't jealous and yes, that was just Illiana's manner. One that had thoroughly exhausted her more restrained parents. No, Yuffie didn't think her childhood friend would ever change.

Nodding, Illiana detracted herself from her clinging hold on Nanaki. "Captain Highwind allowed me to ride in the bridge provided I kept my mouth shut. I heard him say something to Mr. Valentine about my lack of yakking all over the floor."

Yuffie felt her cheeks redden even as Nanaki chuckled aloud. "Does Cid think all Wutaiian's are uneasy with flight?" he asked, directing the question at Yuffie herself.

Huffing, Yuffie crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know and I don't care. The old man was just being mean." She frowned. "He never lets me watch from the bridge."

"Probably because the smell of your distaste for flying would linger for longer than he'd like to endure," Nanaki teased, making the high spots in Yuffie's cheeks darken.

"Nanaki!"

Chuckling, he drew her against him, planting a quick kiss on her lips. "I'm only teasing. Didn't we have somewhere to be?"

Illiana rolled her eyes. "Do you guys have to be lovey-dovey in public?"

"No one asked you to watch," Yuffie retorted before eying her childhood friend, even as she resisted the urge to tackle Nanaki into the nearest empty room. She knew there were a bunch of them around. Had nearly walked in on Vincent and Cid utilizing one. "How long are you staying?"

Illiana shrugged, scratching a finger over her chin. "It's not like I have anything important to do at home."

"Good, then you can come with us," Yuffie said cheerfully, locking elbows with the other woman. She dragged Illiana with her, as she and Nanaki continued to their original destination. "Since you have nothing better to do."

"Your parents discussing marriage interviews again?" Nanaki asked, likely correctly identifying the true matter.

It was confirmed as Illiana made a face, dragging out an exaggerated groan. "If you're not going to do anything with your life, you could at least marry well," she mimicked in a patronizing tone of voice. Her eyes rolled again. "I can't be like my elder siblings. Their disappointment is a heavy thing."

Her tone drifted into melancholy, and Yuffie felt her insides swell with sympathy. Illiana had always been held to a higher standard, enough that Yuffie and she had always gotten along. Their parents had – and still did in Illiana's case – demanded so much of them, never paying much attention to what the two women wanted for themselves.

In the next moment, Illiana buried the sadness beneath a cheery smile. "So... what are the two of you doing here anyways? Now that the monster is defeated. Are you going to return to Wutai?"

"Today in fact," Yuffie confirmed as they found an elevator. Her finger jabbed the button as she prepared for the wait. "But first, we have another companion to pick up."

"Someone's coming back with you?"

Nanaki nodded. "Yes. Temporarily. Vincent volunteered but we're stuck with babysitting duty."

The elevator donged surprisingly quick, letting them all inside. As they stepped into the metal box, Yuffie selected the proper floor, several levels below them.

"It's better than being stuck with Kadaj," Yuffie corrected, wrinkling her nose. "I can just see Archer following along after us like some kind of prince trying to rescue a princess."

Despite himself, Nanaki chuckled. "He is rather determined."

Brown eyes darted between the two of them, confusion etched into Illiana's features. "Babysitting? What are you two talking about? Did you decide to adopt?"

Yuffie burst into laughter. "By the gods, no!" Tickled, she shook her head. "Though it might seem like it when you meet him. I really don't think he's that much of a danger."

The elevator jerked to a halt, the doors sliding open. Illiana cast both Yuffie and Nanaki another confused look, but they ignored her. Yuffie would let Illiana come to her own conclusion after she met Loz. Despite knowing what the elder sibling was capable of, Yuffie wasn't afraid of him. Loz seemed the least... fearful of the bunch. Simple-minded perhaps? Either way, Yuffie wasn't worried she couldn't handle him. Besides, Nanaki had her back if things went sour.

The doors were no longer guarded or locked, and as Yuffie walked down the hall, her best friend and her lover trailing after her, she noticed that Yazoo and Kadaj's rooms were empty. Unsurprising. Archer had no doubt whisked Kadaj away at the first opportunity. And Reis' infatuation with Yazoo was just adorable.

Stopping at an open door, Yuffie was the first to enter, rapping her knuckles against the door to announce her presence. "Your chariot awaits," she called cheerfully.

From within came the sound of something crashing to the ground, shattering on impact. "Dammit, not again," a male voice cursed.

Yuffie chuckled, unsurprised. "That's seven years bad luck, you know."

A body appeared out of the bathroom, rubbing a hand over his face sheepishly. "I'd offer to pay for it, but I don't have any money," Loz said by way of apology, looking younger and less menacing in a pair of light blue jeans topped with a t-shirt with the name of some rock band splashed over the front of it.

"It was just a mirror," Nanaki added from the other side of the door. "I think we can eat the loss."

Loz grinned, looking more like an amused child than the eldest brother of a trio of dangerous criminals. "What happened to the guy in red?"

"Vincent?"

"Yeah, him."

Yuffie shrugged. "He's otherwise occupied. We get to be your babysitters."

Loz' lips curled into a wider grin. "Sounds like fun."

"Care to introduce us?" Illiana suddenly inserted, appearing between Yuffie and Nanaki. Her eyes greedily tracked over Loz's face, a high spot of color dancing on each of her cheeks.

Intrigued, Yuffie felt a kernel of deviousness building inside of her.

Urging Illiana forward, Yuffie grinned. "Illiana meet Loz. Loz meet Illiana. I think you two will get on _famously_."

Nanaki cast a glance at her, questioning her motives. But Yuffie just winked, watching with intrigue as Loz blushed mightily when Illiana shook his hand vigorously, a sparkling smile turned Loz's direction.

"I love your hair! Is it naturally silver?"

The blush deepened. Loz still hadn't released her hand. "Err, yeah. Do you always smile that much?"

Illiana practically glistened with glee. "Better than frowning, right? Say, have you ever thought about having kids?"

They still shook hands, staring each other down with frighteningly identical smiles.

"I love children!"

"Me, too!"

A perfect match.

Oh, yes. Yuffie felt quite devious indeed. And Nanaki beside her was quite amused, lightly swatting at her behind with his fiery tail. Shaking his head at her spontaneous matchmaking. Elena would be proud.

If someone would ask her later if she felt ashamed of herself for thrusting Illiana upon a potential madman, Yuffie already knew her answer.

Clearly, they hadn't met Illiana. It was Loz they should truly be concerned for. Repentant? Not in the slightest.

Only time would tell.

-----------------------

In his dreams, she called to him. Logically, Yazoo knew that Jenova was no longer present. He couldn't feel her and neither could Kadaj. But the night bred his fears and he tossed and turned on his comfortable bed, staring blankly into the darkness.

In the night, she taunted him. That their freedom was only temporary. That she would return to reclaim Kadaj and them. And once again, Yazoo would be powerless to do anything more than succumb to her poisonous clutches. He would be forced to hurt others, to see fear in the eyes of strangers, and to feel blood on those hands.

Thoughts such as those bolted Yazoo from the restraints of his covers. Made him tug self-consciously on strands of long hair as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He told himself he wasn't shivering. Even if his hands betrayed him.

He hoped that nightmares such as his didn't haunt Kadaj. He sincerely hoped that his younger brother wasn't suffering. If taking those dark dreams was the only thing Yazoo was capable of doing, then he would suffer them alone. To make up for all the time he had been unable to do anything for Kadaj. And he knew Loz felt the same way.

Imagine two elder brothers incapable of protecting their younger and being protected by him instead. They were failures in more ways than one.

Dragging a hand down his face, Yazoo pushed himself up from the bed. Sleep would be impossible at this point. He glanced at the clock. Just a little after five in the morning. He'd grasped a grand total of three hours asleep. He'd ran on less.

Heart thudding an odd rhythm in his chest, he swept his hair out of his face and escaped the confines of the small bedroom. Outside, the hall was dimly lit by a night-light, not that Yazoo needed it. Jenova's genes had granted him excellent night vision. His feet took him somewhere unconsciously, Yazoo unsure of what he searched for until he stood directly before it.

Reis' piano. The only place Yazoo had ever found solace, both within the music and her presence.

His eyes flicked to the hallway, down which her door was shut tight. She had said that her apartment was soundproof. He hoped that proved true. His fingers twitched to lay against the keys, if only to calm the restlessness inside him. Something was squeezing his throat, trying to take his breath. He longed for the melody to calm him.

Yazoo didn't know where the tune came from. Certainly his mother – if that was what he thought of Hojo's wife as – had never sang to him. And music had always been absent in the laboratory. But the melody was there in the back of his mind anyways, desperate to pour from his fingers.

He sat on the bench and lifted the lid, revealing the gleaming white and black keys. Yazoo dragged his fingers across them without applying pressure, making no noise. Dust hadn't set a single foot upon them. He wasn't surprised. Reis cared very carefully for her instruments.

Closing his eyes, his fingers found the proper placement without even having to look. A mournful chord to stop it off, and then the rest came easily. Slowly at first, just a few notes at a time before the rest of the melody followed, gradually growing in strength. The chords came to him as though he had memorized them, but Yazoo couldn't explain how he knew the notes.

He didn't even have to look to follow the melody. Somehow, it worked to ease the tensions inside of him. The music vibrated through his fingers, loosening the knot in his chest, making his breathing even out. The darkness building gradually bled away, though Yazoo doubted he would be sleeping anytime soon. The quiet was too much for him.

"Yazoo?"

His fingers hit a discordant note as he startled in surprise, eyes popping open. Yazoo glanced over his shoulder, finding Reis standing at the end of the hall, biting back a yawn.

Yazoo immediately stopped playing, guilt flushing his face. "Did I wake you?"

She shook her head, stepping further into the room, looking sleep rumbled but still rather cute. "I didn't mind," Reis answered instead, moving to sit beside him. She scooted closer to him, until their legs touched. "You always play this song. Why?"

"It's the only one I know," he answered, his hands falling into his lap.

Reis hummed thoughtfully. "Can you read music?"

Yazoo could only give her a blank stare. Tifa had done nothing more than teach him the proper notes and the placement of his fingers as well as a few simple tunes that weren't useful for extended playing. He'd figured out this song on his own and that was the extent of her lessons.

Grinning, Reis urged him to stand and Yazoo did so because she asked. He watched as she flipped up the lid of the piano seat, revealing a secret compartment filled with sheafs of papers in colorful bindings. Reis' mouth twisted with concentration as she selected a few, placing them above the keys.

"If you can learn to play without it, you can definitely learn to play with it," Reis informed him, sitting back down.

Yazoo slid in beside her. "It's that simple?"

"Well, no. But I'm pretty sure you can pick it up." She grinned at him, amber eyes sparkling.

His gaze flicked to the papers, full of lines and notes scribbled on them. Yazoo had seen music sheets on occasion, but he hadn't lied when he said he couldn't read them. It might as well have been written in another language for as much as he understood them. But the prospect of learning to play something else, another song just as beautiful, excited him like nothing else.

"You'll teach me?" He couldn't stop the eagerness in his tone, despite trying to cling onto his stoic exterior.

Chuckling, Reis nodded. "Yes, I will. If you'll have me as a teacher."

"I could think of no one better." Yazoo spoke before he thought, and was surprised when his words provoked a staining of red in Reis' cheeks.

Her eyes skittered away from him like a frightened doe's, though she didn't move from his side. "You should be careful when you say things like that," Reis said softly, swallowing thickly. "You might encourage a woman to think things you don't actually mean."

She spoke in a voice filled with sadness and something tugged at Yazoo internally. He had always treated Reis like a precious friend, but in that moment, he took another look at her. Different than how a friend would treat another. He saw a beautiful, kind woman. One who had never seen him for the monster he feared he truly was. And his heart beat strangely in his chest.

His hand rose of its own accord, taking hers into his. Yazoo looked. Her hand was smooth and soft, uncalloused. Lacking scars. She was no fighter like he and his brothers. Reis had not seen the horrors he had seen. He liked that about her.

"And what would a woman think I mean?" Yazoo asked quietly, still admiring the elegance of her hands.

A moment of silence followed his question and he looked up at her in surprise, wondering what had caused her quiet. Reis was looking at him strangely, and then her free hand lifted towards his, cupping his chin gently.

"Something a bit like this," she murmured, and then she leaned forward, slanting her mouth over his.

Yazoo's eyes widened in surprise, the softness of her lips pressing against his. She smelled of something sweet – strawberries and cream – and her mouth was warm and soft, pliant against his. The stunned moment passed and he reminded himself he needed to participate before she drew away. Before she thought it a rejection.

Suddenly, he wanted as he had never dared to desire before. Reis and himself, a white picket fence and two and a half children and _peace_. Complete and utter peace without a shadow hanging over his head. With his brothers nearby and happy and a future, stretching out before him.

These thoughts and more danced in Yazoo's head, even long after the kiss had ended and he sat staring at Reis dumbly, as though he had never seen a pretty girl in his life before.

"You...?"

"Would like to do that again," Reis confirmed, her thumb stroking over his cheek. "As often as possible if you'd let me."

Yazoo blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in their relationship. "But--"

She shook her head, cutting him off before he could even start whatever he was going to say. Not even Yazoo was certain of his own words. "I can pretty much guess it, so don't even start. Let's not worry about the past and what you are or aren't or any of that. We'll just worry about right now. Like say, are you going to let me or aren't you?"

For some reason, Yazoo had had it in his mind that females were delicate, dainty creatures that waited for men to swoop in and rescue them. Perhaps his belief had been tainted by fairy tales, things he had thought life should be rather than what he knew it to be. Reis was nothing like those fainting princesses who waited. She was determined and honest, and he liked that.

He liked it a lot.

Yazoo answered by being bold, by closing the distance between them and kissing her again. She surprised him by sliding her tongue across his lips, than pushing into his mouth, strengthening the sweet taste of strawberries.

And the next thing he knew, he was being nearly tackled against the piano bench, his back hitting a string of discordant notes that jangled through the air. Reis didn't seem to notice, her arms curling around him, her body soft against his. And all the dark things fluttering in the back of Yazoo's mind vanished, replaced with sweet skin and gentle desire and an armful of Reis.

He could only hope that her brother wouldn't kill him for it.

* * *

a/n: Only two more chapters to go! And the next one is all smut! What you've all been waiting for!

Coming up next: Chapter Twenty: Bring the Columns Down in which Tseng and Sephiroth finally come to an _understanding_ and everyone says their last goodbyes to Marlene and Elena.


	31. Chapter 20: Bring the Columns Down

a/n: At last! What you have all been waiting for! The SMUT.

Enjoy!

**Shattered Children: Chapter Twenty**

**Bring the Columns Down**

Time passed, as it was wont to do. And before Sephiroth knew it, two weeks had gone by since the last battle with Jenova. The world moved on. The people began to rebuild, to put their lives back together. Sephiroth rarely left Junon, too consumed with his duties in the WRO. And Tseng was much the same, enough that they seldom found time to spend together, much less alone.

The promised discussion, the promised answers, they'd had little time to pursue either. And their schedules clashed so terribly that one rose from the bed as the other lay down for what little rest they were allowed. Sephiroth tried to divide his time between his lover and his best friend, but Zack was being noticeably absent. Devoting himself to work, no doubt, and demanding whatever Reeve could give him.

Burying his pain in layers of responsibility, anything to keep himself from thinking. Sephiroth understood that feeling all too well. He didn't blame Zack one bit.

Sephiroth found himself engaged in activities occupying more time than he had to give. Spending time with Denzel, watching over him, assuring him that Marlene's fate was not his fault.

Speaking with the three brothers whenever the occasion granted him, confirming that there were few things that differed in their shared pasts, cultivating a steady hatred for their father.

Monster extermination when there was something the soldiers themselves couldn't handle. There were dozens of them, drawn by the scent of death and destruction, sneaking into Junon and attempting to find themselves a meal.

And on one occasion, Sephiroth had even found himself in Reeve's office, forging the president's signature and filling out the dreaded paperwork.

It was altogether exhausting, which was why he felt relief crashing over him. It was still early yet and he was already heading home, or to Tseng's apartment to be more precise. It was the only way they managed to connect, by staying in the same space.

Eating a cooked meal – even if it was take-out – at a dinner table felt even more so. Though he wasn't appreciative of the stark silence in the apartment. It left him too much time to think. Taking a shower felt like a luxury, the warm water beating at the back of his shoulders and easing some of the tension.

Sephiroth looked forward even more to the soft comfort of his bed, though remembering that Tseng would not be returning tonight dulled his enjoyment.

The sound of a key turning in the lock surprised Sephiroth, who glanced quickly at the hall clock. Only nine in the evening. Far too early for Tseng to be returning. Wasn't he supposed to leave for Wutai with Yuffie tonight?

Sephiroth's hands fell from his hair, dropping the towel across his shoulders as the door opened. Sure enough, Tseng stepped inside, and nearly dropped his key in his surprise.

"Sephiroth? I thought Reeve had you on a mission?"

"I thought you were going to Wutai?"

They looked at each other for another minute more before Tseng's lips curled into a slow smile. He closed the door behind him. "Yuffie took one look at me and decided I would be better served coming here. Practically pushed me off the Valenwind."

Interesting.

Sephiroth watched as Tseng stepped out of his shoes and stripped out of his suit jacket, hanging it on the hook near the door. His swords and sheath quickly followed.

"Reeve sent Zack after the creature instead," Sephiroth answered, the enormity of the moment suddenly striking him.

They were together and alone at the same time. Together and alone without the fatigue of a long day hanging over them and the possibility of free time tomorrow. It was almost as if there were other forces at work to ensure this. And were Elena still alive, Sephiroth would have suspected her. But perhaps this was the work of another devious female. Suddenly, Aeris' offer to take Denzel for the night didn't seem a coincidence.

The distance between them suddenly seemed minute, and Sephiroth remembered the promise in their last conversation. Implicitly stated, but present nonetheless. He recalled his own determination and though the pall of grief still lingered like a particularly distasteful smell, Sephiroth was resolute to overcome it.

"I'm sensing a plot," Tseng commented, the same conclusion Sephiroth had drawn. "At least it explains the string of giggles that followed me after Yuffie pushed me off the Valenwind's ramp."

"She actually pushed you?" Sephiroth asked, incredulous.

The Turk inclined his head, moving past Sephiroth to the interior of the apartment. One finger tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it. "A great shove. Right off the ramp. Nanaki didn't even try to stop her."

The thought of Tseng's cousin shoving him off the Valenwind made Sephiroth chuckle. "You can't tell me you're disappointed."

Water ran as Tseng splashed it over his face, his tie lying loose around his neck, shirt untucked. "No, I'm not."

Tseng paused, glancing at Sephiroth using the reflection in the mirror which he had wiped to clear of fog from Sephiroth's shower. The single look was full of meaning and it made something inside Sephiroth's gut simultaneously tighten and heat all at once.

Swallowing thickly, Sephiroth felt his cheeks burn and he edged out of the doorway. "I'll... uh... let you get cleaned up," he muttered, suddenly self-conscious.

And before Tseng could say anything otherwise, he slipped down the hall, heading for his own bedroom. He knew that Tseng would eventually join him and the thought produced a trill of anticipation to run through his veins. But of what he wasn't entirely certain.

Sephiroth rubbed the towel over his hair one last time before tossing it into the basket in the laundry room as he passed. Running his fingers through his damp hair, he stepped into the bedroom. It was in serious disarray, the bed covers rumpled and tossed every which direction, along with various articles of clothing. Considering he'd only had time as of late to wake up, throw on clothes and race out the door, it seemed almost neat.

He set about cleaning up at least some of the mess. Not that it would bother Tseng. But he needed something to do. Something more than sitting on his bed, blushing like a young woman on her wedding night, waiting. His ears caught the sound of the shower cutting on, granting him a measure of relief.

Sephiroth straightened in silence, refusing to think deeper. What would happen would happen and he'd let it rest like that. It was almost hard to believe that a little under three weeks ago he'd been roaming the entire planet, lacking purpose... forgiveness... understanding. Cursed by Geostigma, he hadn't known what else to do.

And now... things were so much different.

Now he was about to try having sex with his boyfriend. And damn if the thought didn't make him blush unnecessarily. He was too old to be acting like this.

A sound in the doorway made him turn and look, Tseng standing there, wearing nothing more than a pair of loose pants, drawn tight by the string. They sagged low, revealing the knobby bones of his hips and a thin line of dark hair from navel to where it disappeared beyond the hem. Sephiroth felt something inside of himself tighten at the sight.

It wasn't that he'd never seen Tseng nude or even half-nude – because he had – but that it had never come with such expectation hanging on the air. Sephiroth's eyes drank in Tseng's appearance, and realized that for the first time, he consciously desired this man. It wasn't just a lust borne entirely by lecherous touches, but an intended sexual thought. Everything inside of him wanted to press fingers to tanned skin and run lips over the flattened discs of Tseng's nipples. He wanted to watch Tseng flush in arousal, to hear sounds fall from Tseng's mouth.

To watch Tseng come undone all because of him.

At just the thought, Sephiroth's breath caught, and Tseng must have read the heat in his stare because he returned Sephiroth's gaze without flinching. He crossed the floor in only a few steps, discarding the towel to the floor, smelling strongly of his shampoo and soap, making Sephiroth's nostrils flare.

"We should take advantage of this chance," Tseng murmured, silver eyes full of heat. "Don't you think?"

Sephiroth inclined his head, forcing himself to breathe. "Wouldn't want to waste it."

Tseng licked his lips, holding his gaze as he reached for Sephiroth's hand, drawing it up to his mouth. Sephiroth's fingers twitched as he felt warm breath ghost over his hand before a tongue lapped over his palm. Tingles drizzled down his spine as Tseng turned it over, his tongue tracing the lines of the much hated tattoo.

"Join me on the bed?" Tseng requested, nibbling at the tip of Sephiroth's fingers.

For all things Holy, Sephiroth would not say no. He wordlessly nodded and followed Tseng as he was led to the bed, climbing first onto the mattress with Tseng crawling along after him. Tseng perched over Sephiroth on all fours, his lips seeking out the tender skin of Sephiroth's throat.

Gasping, Sephiroth threw his head back, letting that hot mouth do as it will, the sound of their breathing overly loud in the room. He felt his cock lengthen within his pants, straining at the cotton confines. Tseng's knee pressed against his groin, providing something for Sephiroth to arch against. Heat sizzled across his skin and Sephiroth dragged his hands down Tseng's bare skin, fingers skittering over long-healed scars.

A hand crept under Sephiroth's shirt, palm sliding against his flat abdomen. Prickles raised across his skin, a low noise banking behind his lips. Tseng's breath was hot against his throat as the hand moved further, dragging the cotton higher.

Heart thudding in his chest, Sephiroth gripped Tseng tightly. There was a pressure building inside of him, his cock filling with blood and pushing at the confines of his sleep pants. His hips thrust raggedly upwards, rubbing against Tseng's leg, desperate for relief.

Tseng panted, teeth dragging a light path. "You're killing me," he groaned, drawing back enough to yank off Sephiroth's shirt, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.

Sephiroth's skin prickled where the cool air washed over his bare chest. Tseng's knee nudged against Sephiroth's groin, applying perfect pressure to his desperate length. He growled low in his throat.

"Dying is not preferable," he muttered back, fingers reaching up and tangling in Tseng's hair, dragging him down for a tongue-tangling kiss.

The Turk lowered himself, their hips colliding, bare chests flush together. Tseng rolled his hips, grinding against him, and Sephiroth arched up to meet his thrust. Heat flushed Sephiroth's body and he shuddered, feeling the cloth of his pants dampen. Tseng was hot and hard against him, and for once, the feel of being beneath the Turk didn't alarm him as it used to.

Sephiroth reached up, more an active participant this time, his free fingers finding the hem of Tseng's loose pants, the only thing he had pulled on after his shower. Sephiroth's hand slid beneath the band, finding the heat of Tseng's length. His fingers curled around it, and at the first stroke, Tseng moaned. His rhythm faltered.

"Nnnn, don't," Tseng panted brokenly, dotting a trail of kisses across Sephiroth's bare collarbone. He mouthed the bone beneath the skin.

Sephiroth froze, insecurity lashing at him. "You don't like it?"

The Turk pulled back, silver eyes regarding him heatedly even as Tseng's cheeks flushed. "I'm too close," he admitted with some embarrassment.

Understanding dawned, and mischief replaced the undercurrent of anxiety. Sephiroth ignored Tseng's requests and picked up his rhythm again, swiping his thumb across the dampened head of the Turk's cock.

It pulsed in his grasp, Tseng unconsciously thrusting into his fingers. "Sephiroth!" he groaned, his word a plea for more and less all at once.

Sephiroth felt emboldened by Tseng's reaction, less the inexperienced man that he was and more the man he should be. "To take the edge off," he murmured lustfully. "You don't think you can recover?"

It had to be another man saying those teasing, taunting things. Because Sephiroth couldn't remember being so bold. Strange what strength his freedom from _Her_ could bring. And yet, he wasn't going to think of that creature right now. Not for a single moment. Because Tseng moaned at his words.

"I take it back," Tseng returned, his tongue tracing a hungry circle over Sephiroth's bare throat. "Please continue."

Thusly encouraged, Sephiroth stroked Tseng skillfully, truthfully one of the only things he hadn't needed an embarrassing query or research to learn. His fingers encircled Tseng's hard flesh, feeling each pulse of the Turk's heartbeat. Precome beaded at the tip and Sephiroth swiped his thumb over it, using it to slick his way.

Tseng's body became a force in motion, alternately grinding down against him and thrusting into the tunnel of Sephiroth's fingers. His mouth settled hot and heavy over whatever of Sephiroth's skin he could reach, one hand clutching onto the rumpled bed covers for balance. The other scraped fingernails lightly over Sephiroth's chest, dragging across a peaked nipple and making his skin raise in goosebumps. Pleasure flooded Sephiroth's body, causing his own cock to stiffen painfully.

He hadn't lied when he said he was already close, and it wasn't long before Tseng groaned, spilling heat over Sephiroth's fingers. Tseng's mouth sought out Sephiroth's, their lips messily colliding as Sephiroth milked every last spark of pleasure from Tseng.

Tseng broke away from the kiss, leaving a trail of licks across Sephiroth's jaw. He muttered something under his breath, but Sephiroth didn't quite catch it, too busy admiring the flushed tint to Tseng's cheeks. He watched as the Wutaiian stretched his body to reach over the side of the bed, tugging open the drawer to remove a small tube of lube and grabbing a tissue from the handy-dandy box.

Sephiroth felt his heart rate escalate as Tseng returned, crawling over him with erotic intent. Hands roamed, flitting touches designed to arouse, removing the last of their clothes, and Sephiroth sucked in a breath, his body arching towards each faint touch. A tissue wiped Sephiroth's hand clean before it was discarded over the side of the bed and Tseng's lips returned, distracting Sephiroth with a particularly deep kiss. He groaned, something fluttering in his belly.

Silver eyes pooled with lust. "Round two," Tseng growled lowly, nudging Sephiroth's head back to attack a pale throat with gentle nips of his teeth.

He was pleased when the former General's body arched up to meet his, hard cock pushing insistently at Tseng. The attraction was shared, a gratifying thought. And Tseng felt he could at least think clearer now. The heat of the prior moment had eased with his first orgasm, and he was glad to take the edge off.

Of course, his arousal hadn't faded in the slightest, though the sense of urgency had passed. Even now, his cock nudged against the soft skin of Sephiroth's inner thigh, sensing an eventual destination. And just the thought of it made Tseng twitch with want.

Ten years. He'd waited ten years for this.

Tseng nibbled abdomen, tracing defined muscles. He purposefully ignored Sephiroth's leaking cock, only giving it the occasional stroke as a part of him enjoyed seeing the silver-haired man on edge. Pale skin flushed in want.

Sephiroth seemed relaxed and Tseng took a chance, drizzling oil over his fingers. He distracted Sephiroth by lapping his tongue across the former General's peaked nipple and then slowly circled Sephiroth's entrance with one oiled digit.

When bloodshed didn't immediately follow, Tseng pressed for more, his own breath short and rapid in anticipation. His finger rubbed across puckered muscle, not yet breaching, his other hand rubbing soothingly across a bare thigh. A fluttery moan escaped Sephiroth's lips, causing heat to pool thickly in Tseng's groin.

It wasn't until he dared push beyond the ring that he felt it, a subtle wash of uncertainty trickling on the edge of his senses. On the outside, Sephiroth seemed perfectly fine. Were it not for Tseng's ability, he wouldn't have ever known.

Despite himself, Tseng sighed inwardly. It seemed Highwind had been right, though he was loathe to admit it. And even more embarrassed to remember that particular conversation, wishing to never, ever repeat it for the rest of his existence. It just... no, there were no words to describe that kind of disturbing talk. He was best off pretending it never happened, even as he lightly admitted that it had come into use.

Tseng kissed his way up the planes of Sephiroth's chest, moving to nibble on a collarbone. His probing fingers shifted to the safety of Sephiroth's thigh, stroking over pale skin, begging to be marked. There was plenty of time for that later.

"We can always turn things around," Tseng murmured, his tongue tracing the ridged lines of a visible scar, though he wondered what could have possibly scared Sephiroth. "I'm open to change."

Sephiroth shook his head, letting out a slow breath, a touch of annoyance in his tone. Directed at himself and not Tseng. "I _want _to do this," he insisted, shifting his hips upwards in show, his seeping cock obvious proof.

He had expected as much. There was no doubt in Sephiroth's leaking emotions. He did want to do this. The lingering uncertainty was entirely unconscious, and Tseng suspected it wouldn't have emerged outwardly until an inauspicious moment much later. Considering what he had unintentionally gleaned of Sephiroth's past, it was only to be expected.

Once again, Highwind's advice rose to the forefront of Tseng's brain. Reluctantly, Tseng bowed to the wisdom of the pilot's words.

He pulled back, ignoring the look of annoyance that briefly crossed Sephiroth's face. "All right," Tseng agreed, and shifted. "Then get up."

Confusion replaced the agitation, but Sephiroth obeyed, sliding into a sitting position. Tseng wasted no time in occupying the space where Sephiroth had laid, his bare back pressed against the warmth Sephiroth left behind. He could smell Sephiroth's scent against his sheets, mingling with the scent of his own soap and cologne. And Tseng couldn't help but breathe it in, the mixed scents shooting straight to his cock.

A shudder of want wracked his body, and Tseng struggled to hold onto his control, reaching over himself and tucking it below his head.

Sephiroth's confusion had not eased. "What are you doing?" he demanded, hair falling around his face and across his shoulder in a wave of black and silver.

Despite himself, Tseng couldn't control the burn that entered his cheeks. He hesitated, eyeing Sephiroth carefully. "This doesn't go outside the bedroom."

Blinking, Sephiroth shot him a look that the Turk couldn't quite interpret – a mix between exasperation, confusion and concession. "Tseng?"

Tseng allowed the sigh he had been bottling free and gestured Sephiroth towards him, pleased when the former General took the suggestion and crawled over his reclined body. Sephiroth straddled him on hands and knees, face lowered to press their mouths together. Elegant angles and hard lines and pale skin, stained with arousal. Sephiroth was truly an arousing sight to behold.

Nibbling at lips already reddened from kissing, Tseng forced himself to speak. "I was cornered by one Cid Highwind not too long ago," he reluctantly admitted, his hands finding Sephiroth's hips and silently directing Sephiroth where he intended the former General to be.

Sephiroth scooted upwards, until his knees sat to either side of Tseng's hips, looming over Tseng like some ancient god carved from soft alabaster. Incredibly enticing as his cock bobbed from between spread legs, rosy with need.

Distracted, Tseng licked his lips and continued, "Who, consequently, was sent by Valentine. I was offered... advice."

Above him, Sephiroth's jaw worked soundlessly, brow wrinkling. "Er..."

"Father and son share some of the same scars," Tseng murmured quietly, his hands leaving the safety of Sephiroth's broad but well-shaped hips.

Fingers smoothed over Sephiroth's skin, dancing lightly over a few visible scars. "Inside and out," he added, more to himself than to Sephiroth.

A moment of stunned silence filled the room, though it didn't seem to damper Sephiroth's arousal at all. He blinked. "So you're trying to tell me that Captain Highwind gave you ... sex tips?" Sephiroth demanded, trying his damnedest not to snort out in laughter and also vaguely horrified by the thought. He just didn't like to equate the two – Highwind and sex – into the same sentence, even if a part of him were aware it happened.

"As I said before, this doesn't leave the bedroom," Tseng muttered, trying to stop the flush of embarrassment in his cheeks. "The point I was trying to make is that Highwind believed it was a control thing. Which is why I suggested we switch things around. This is the next best thing." His fingers flexed on Sephiroth's hip even as his free hand curled lightly around Sephiroth's cock.

Sephiroth groaned at the soft touch, his hips unconsciously pushing forward. "I see," he said shakily, breathing quickened.

Tseng's fingers danced over Sephiroth's cock, the former General unable to resist thrusting into his loose hold. He leaned over, pressing his lips to Tseng's, their tongues tangling sloppily. The heat in the room was tangible, putting up a mighty battle against the ceiling fan lazily turning above them. Tseng clenched his hold on Sephiroth's hip, grinding up against him. His libido seemed undaunted by his earlier release.

"You recovered quickly," Sephiroth panted, dragging his fingers through Tseng's hair, sensitizing his scalp.

Despite himself, Tseng felt a blush flare to the roots of his hair. Sephiroth was supposed to be the so-called virgin here! And yet, Tseng acted as if this was the first time a man's stripped for him!

"Yes, well..." Tseng trailed off, unwilling to admit the truth aloud. Not quite yet.

He distracted himself by reaching for the oil again, putting it in easy reach. He patted his chest pointedly, catching Sephiroth's gaze. "Come here."

Sephiroth lifted a brow. "I'm already here."

There was something to be said about a lack of experience that was intoxicating. And Tseng wasn't a strong enough man to deny how very sexy it was. To accrue innocence on a man like Sephiroth seemed unthinkable, and yet there was an untouched part of the man that proved its existence.

"No, I mean scoot up," Tseng clarified, heart thudding in his chest from anticipation alone. It should have been awkward, but it wasn't at all. Thank kami for that.

Though obviously confused, Sephiroth did as asked. He shifted until his knees straddled Tseng's chest. Tseng's fingers stroked the organ in his grasp, treated to an aroused shiver, as he licked his lips pointedly, the musky smell of Sephiroth's arousal trickling to his nose. Indeed, every part of him was beautiful.

Only then did Sephiroth seem to get the point and Tseng leaned forward just as Sephiroth pushed towards him. Tseng's tongue slipped out, lapping across the tip of Sephiroth's cock and catching a bead of fluid. Sephiroth was rigid with need, leaking copiously, his breathing emerging in harsh, controlled pants.

Tseng looked forward to seeing him abandon that control. He began to suspect that he contained a slightly sadistic side. Sephiroth nearly trembled as he dragged his tongue across Sephiroth's cock, making Tseng's own desire surge through his veins. The former General emitted a restrained mood, body shaking from the effort of holding himself back.

Looking up at Sephiroth, Tseng's tongue made another round of the seeping tip. "Lean forward, hold onto the headboard for me?" he asked, locking eyes with Sephiroth, whose own had darkened with want.

Sephiroth didn't hesitate, a fact which pleased Tseng greatly. As he stretched over Tseng, the Turk was all too eager to draw Sephiroth into his mouth, wrapping his lips around Sephiroth's rigid arousal. To his delight, Sephiroth groaned, an incredibly erotic sound that was mix of breath and moan.

Ten years. He'd waited ten years for this. And damn but Sephiroth was worth it.

Tseng's hands moved to Sephiroth's hips, squeezing and soothing, as his mouth worked Sephiroth's shaft. He traced veins and flicked the flat of his tongue against the sensitive head, feeling Sephiroth shudder above him.

Glancing upwards, Tseng found Sephiroth's eyes had closed. His head hung, hair curtaining his face. But his grip on the headboard was white-knuckled tight, and his hips had already begun a subtle rocking motion. Perfect.

Tseng loosened his hold on Sephiroth's hip and reached for the oil. Distracting Sephiroth with his mouth, he drizzled more over his fingers. And then he carefully brushed his oiled fingers lightly over Sephiroth's puckered muscle, nearly holding his breath in expectation.

Sephiroth tensed briefly at the unexpected touch, but relaxed again when Tseng sucked strongly on Sephiroth's cock. His tongue danced over the seeping slit, distracting Sephiroth wholly. So far so good.

He massaged his fingers over the muscled ring. Sephiroth moaned lustily, pushing back towards the teasing touch.

Encouraged, Tseng opted to press a finger, groaning low in his chest when the single digit was clamped in heat. The anticipated flash of uncertainty didn't come, and Tseng had to admit that Highwind was most likely right. It did have something to do with control. In the past, Sephiroth had none. But now, he had the capability to call things to an end if he wanted, to pull away and leave. And that made all the difference in the world.

Grinning around his mouthful, Tseng shallowly thrust his finger in and out, pleased that Sephiroth rocked back and forth between the heat of his mouth and the pressure of his finger. Sephiroth gasped in a breath, sweat coating his forehead, his cock swelling in Tseng's mouth.

"Tseng..." he groaned, fingers flexing against the headboard. "I can't..."

Recognizing the sound for what it was – a warning – Tseng did not pause, drawing Sephiroth deeper into his mouth and stroking his tongue over the rigid flesh.

"I--" Sephiroth suddenly broke off, shuddering as his restraint snapped and he spilled himself in Tseng's mouth, the taste of him washing over the Turk's tongue. The headboard creaked as Sephiroth's grip tested its durability.

Tseng swallowed him greedily, muscles clamping around his finger. Sephiroth panted, his pale skin flushed quite attractively. He carefully laved his tongue over Sephiroth's cock as the last of the spurts faded, gentle as he knew the former General was quite sensitive.

As Sephiroth lingered in a hazy aftermath of sizzling pleasure, Tseng took the opportunity to press in another finger, relieved when there was no protest. His own need had reached greater heights, undone by the sight of Sephiroth losing himself to pleasure. It left him faintly dizzy with want.

Muscles loosened around his fingers, still gripping, but not with the same restrictive force as before. Sephiroth had relaxed, his body keyed to the pleasure Tseng provided him.

Dragging his free hand around, Tseng skirted his palm up Sephiroth's flat belly, fingers splayed across the former General's chest. He found a peaked nipple, twisting it gently in his fingers. Sephiroth hissed, pushing back towards Tseng's fingers, his body easing.

"Ready?" Tseng asked, licking his lips in anticipation.

Grey eyes wandered down to him, dazed from his release and drunk with pleasure. "Ready?" he repeated, in confusion, before understanding dawned on him. "Of course I am. I won't break, Tseng."

Not quite believing, Tseng gave him a once-over. Sephiroth certainly looked ready, his cock hardening beneath Tseng's look. His muscles had loosened around Tseng's fingers. And most of all, there was a complete lack of doubt in his thoughts, they were steady and smooth, like a stream flowing over rocks, though beneath the surface stirred an eddy of desire.

Nodding, Tseng set his hands on Sephiroth's hip. "Good. Then scoot back for me," he murmured, only to add a belated, "Please."

Cheeks reddening, Sephiroth inclined his head, slipping backwards until he hovered over Tseng's cock, purple with need.

Tseng drizzled oil over his fingers, nearly spilling it as his hands shook with want. He really was acting like a virgin who'd never tasted another before. He grit his teeth as he dumped the lube over his aching shaft, and placed one hand on Sephiroth's hip.

Looking up, Tseng licked his lips, clearing his throat noisily. "This sounds contrary," he began, breathing noticeably uneven. "But push out as I push in."

Sephiroth nodded, and slowly sank down. Tseng groaned, his hand clamping on Sephiroth's hip as he struggled to hold onto his control. He felt the head of his cock press against the slick ring before it breached, pressing into incredible heat. Throwing his head back, Tseng fought not to come then and there.

He groaned, fully encased inside Sephiroth and thanking Kami and all who would listen. "Okay?" he gasped, hoping desperately that Sephiroth was fine because as it were, all of his senses had short-circuited and he couldn't sense a damn thing.

"Please don't ask me that," Sephiroth returned tightly, but the look on his face didn't project overwhelming pain, so Tseng supposed all was well.

He curled his fingers around Sephiroth's cock, giving him an encouraging stroke, and watched as Sephiroth arched into the touch. It was a simple matter for Tseng to withdraw, and then push up into the other man again, tossing his head back at the pleasure that assaulted his senses. It felt like Sephiroth was gripping him, and his strained libido breathed a great sigh of relief.

Tseng wanted it to last. He held romantic illusions of staying buried in Sephiroth's body, of their skin sliding together and their lips tangled. He wanted to _remember_ this. But the intentions of his mind were no match for the desires of his body.

He felt it building up inside of him, a wave of heat that flooded his systems only to pool in his belly, coiling tensely. His rhythm became more ragged, his control fading as he greedily took in Sephiroth's expression, aroused by the red that stained his cheeks and the glisten of sweat over pale skin. Sephiroth was close, too. He could feel it in every throb of the man's cock, and every twitch of Sephiroth's muscles around him.

Tseng's release built up inside of him, a massive tidal wave battering at the dam of his control. He sucked in a breath, clinging to restraint, determined to hold out. He swiped his thumb over the head of Sephiroth's cock, slamming up into the other man. He wanted to Sephiroth come undone first, to feel the former General clenching around him before he released.

Sephiroth groaned, leaning forward and placing both hands to either side of Tseng's head. He lowered his mouth, sealing his lips against Tseng's. His tongue shoved insistently past Tseng's lips, tangling sloppily, and Tseng groaned. He loved Sephiroth being aggressive as much as he loved Sephiroth panting and writhing above him.

Fluid seeped over Tseng's fingers, the cock in his hold as rigid as steel and swelling with impending release. Tseng thrust upwards, his arousal rubbing insistently at Sephiroth's prostate. Tseng pushed deeper and deeper into that clenching heat, unable to stop the blaze that worked its way through his body.

Tseng peeled open his eyes, silver darkened with want as he broke away from the kiss to press his lips against Sephiroth's throat. The other man swallowed and Tseng felt the bobbing of it against his mouth. So sexy. So hot. He couldn't hold on much longer.

"Come for me," Tseng murmured, half-plea, half-request and all ardent desire. He dragged his lower lip between his teeth, chewing on it desperately in effort to hold himself back. His hips had a mind of their own, churning relentlessly upwards.

"Tseng, I--"

He watched, captivated, as Sephiroth gasped, body arching, every movement sleek and defined. Sephiroth shook, a low groan building his chest, rattling through his throat, and falling from his lips. Sephiroth's fingers clenched onto the coverlet as he ground onto Tseng's cock, rocking between the penetrating shaft and the stroking of Tseng's fingers. Inches away from release.

Sephiroth's lips parted, as though to say nothing more, but the word degenerated into a rattling moan as his hips snapped and he shuddered. Release spilled over Tseng's fingers, some splattering onto his belly as Sephiroth's body tightened around him.

Tseng's restraint snapped, the coil of heat in his belly bursting. His fingers clenched on Sephiroth's hip, chomping on his bottom lip as he succumbed to the pull of Sephiroth's body. He spilled within that clamping heat, hips raggedly pushing upwards as Sephiroth slumped bonelessly over him, face pressed to Tseng's neck.

Tremors of pleasure still tingling through his body, Tseng dragged his relatively clean hand upwards, threading fingers through dyed hair. He tilted Sephiroth's face upwards, sealing their lips together in a slow, languid kiss, heart gradually returning to a normal rhythm in his chest.

Sephiroth ended the kiss, grey eyes seeking out Tseng's. "I'm all sticky," he admitted, grinding his hips down emphatically.

Tseng sucked in a breath, the motion too erotic. His libido, which should have been sated by now, gave a twitch of interest. "Join me for a shower?" he suggested, a slow slurry of desire beginning in his groin, only to radiate elsewhere.

He was treated to the sight of a Sephiroth smile, small but definitely there, and recently low in abundance. "No holds barred, is that what you're telling me?"

Tseng's hand curved over Sephiroth's buttocks, despite the release still covering them. "You're the one that gave me the opportunity." His lips pulled into a lecherous smirk. "I've years to make up for it."

"I don't think my body can handle that," Sephiroth groaned, but even so, Tseng felt Sephiroth's cock twitch against his hip.

"It can handle more than you think," Tseng returned, though he took a moment to return to all seriousness. "Thank you for trusting me."

Embarrassment darkened Sephiroth's cheeks, his eyes skittering away. "That's really not something to thank someone for," he muttered.

"Fine, then I won't." Tseng pressed his lips to Sephiroth's bare throat, licking over flushed skin. "Join me for a shower?" he asked again, though his body seemed to have a mind of its own, hips rolling up against Sephiroth's.

"If we even make it there," Sephiroth responded with a teasing groan, though he didn't pull away from Tseng.

And that, right there, was encouragement enough.

----------

The funeral was held a few days later, on a cool morning where the sun peeked through scattered clouds and the air smelled sweet and fresh. Like a new day. But not even the good weather could break the shroud of sorrow that clung like a wet blanket to the mourners.

Several spoke. Flowers were lain in offering, a brilliant array of colors. Faces were dry, expressions solid and controlled, but only Tseng could tell the truth of the emotion. Even then, he was too absorbed in his own grief to pay much attention to anyone else's.

Three graves stood in stark contrast to the blue and white sky, one already present, two recently crafted.

And Sephiroth stood, slightly away from everyone, but present nonetheless, wishing he could erase the guilt but knowing it was something that would take time. Logically, he knew he shouldn't blame himself entirely. He had been told as much from several of those closest to him. But he couldn't help the stabs of guilt, and he doubted they would ever leave him.

A part of him relished that strong emotion, because it meant he had broken from the mask of SOLDIER that Hojo had trapped him behind. It meant he was the most human he had ever been.

He watched as one-by-one, his friends and family left, wandering back towards Kalm. There would be a night of drinking for the adults, early bedtime for the children. A night of reminiscing and amusing stories to ease the tightness of grief. And in the morning, they would wander their separate ways, still connected by their bonds, but slowly moving on.

The people of Gaia were nothing if not durable.

Tseng was one of the last to leave, his face dry, but his eyes a mask of emotions. His grief had not ended despite the time, but he had grown to bear it better.

Their gazes met briefly, a silent conversation passing between them. Tseng would wait for him at the bar, though he wouldn't indulge. He understood, without Sephiroth needing to say, that there was one conversation left for Sephiroth to hold.

Zack still stood, his back a solid presence, seeming entirely composed. And Sephiroth had never felt guiltier for being unable to help his best friend.

He waited until the others had left, bonding together in their sorrows. Only then did Sephiroth move from his spot, walking quietly to stand beside Zack, watching the three headstones that marked the burial spots of their friends' remains.

Their spirits weren't here anymore, but it was the closest connection any of them had to what was lost.

"Zack--"

"I'm sorry," Zack said quickly, interrupting. His voice raspy, Zack noisily cleared his throat before continuing. "I just thought I would say it first before you could."

Shaking his head, Sephiroth shifted his gaze to look at Zack. His best friend could have been carved from stone for all the emotion he showed, an expression dangerously resembling the one Sephiroth used to carry. Sephiroth didn't like the look of it all.

"And what are you apologizing for?"

Zack shrugged. "Whatever you think you need to apologize for. It's not your fault. It's not mine. And yet, apologies keep flying around." He closed his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky. "When are we going to realize it doesn't ease the pain any? Only makes it worse."

"I should have been there for you," Sephiroth said, pushing on despite Zack's words. He considered this a different guilt than the one surrounding Elena and Marlene's death. "Since you have always been by my side.

Zack peeled his eyes open, glancing at him from the side. Warmth touched crystalline blue, and something inside Sephiroth sighed with relief. His best friend was still in there, behind the mask. It was just his manner of grieving.

"You sent Aeris, and honestly Sephiroth, she's the best comfort a guy could get. No offense. But you're just not soft in all the right places." Zack's lips quirked into a wry grin, a shadow of his usual humor, but enough to ease Sephiroth's tensions a bit further.

His shoulders laxed, a wind rising and stirring Sephiroth's hair around his face. "Then I am relieved. I... I worry about you, Zack." Voicing his emotions, something so terribly simple, but nothing was ever simple for Sephiroth. It took more effort than anyone would know to say it so plainly.

Zack looked at him, actually turned to look at him fully, a bit more of the stone mask melting away. "It's grief, Seph. And yeah, it hurts. Yeah, I'm feeling pretty damn depressed right now. But I won't drown in it. I promise. So don't worry. You'll give yourself ulcers and then where would we be?"

"Hopefully, happily enjoying your lives," Sephiroth returned easily, hardening his shoulders against the cold. "I think I speak for all of us when I say I am tired of fighting. If I never see another battle again, I will be much relieved."

Zack turned, rubbing shoulders with him, encouraging Sephiroth to follow. His eyes tracked Sephiroth's face. "You're different somehow," he commented. And at Sephiroth's confused look, Zack elaborated. "Not wholly a bad thing, but different. Stronger."

"I have settled some things," Sephiroth admitted, thinking with a hint of a blush to everything he had finally come to accept. There was a peace inside of him, and he luxuriated in it.

The wind ruffled black spikes. "Settled some things," Zack repeated, and his lips parted in a true grin, a sharp bark of laughter escaping him. "Just say it like everyone else, Seph. You got laid."

Eyes widening impossibly large, Sephiroth nearly choked on his next breath. "Zack!"

"No need to hide it," Zack chirped with a cheer that was – in part – forced, but also wholly honest. He clapped a hand on Sephiroth's shoulder. "It's about time. Poor Tseng must have been ready to combust. I'm surprised you're in one piece."

Sephiroth found himself completely speechless, his mouth opening and closing but no words emerging. In truth, he did feel a bit... wrung dry for lack of a better word. His ears and cheeks burned with embarrassment, though he ought to be used to this by now when it came to Zack.

It was a return to the normal, though sorrow still ran like an undercurrent, and Sephiroth relished it. Which was why he endured the teasing as they headed back to the bar, and why he returned it in full.

Zack was hurting, but he would get better. Just like the rest of their motley, assorted family. Things would heal with time, and they would move on, just as they had times before. Life continued, even if it seemed otherwise, and this second chance had taught Sephiroth that.

Life was meant for living.

* * *

a/n: Admittedly, there is a lack of undying expressions of love, but I was never really a believer in those anyways. What Tseng and Sephiroth have together is special enough as it is.

One more chapter to go! And that's the epilogue: Five-Hundred Years Later in which Yuffie tells us everything that happened to our heroes.

See you then! And by the way, the _Shattered Arc _turned four yesterday (the 26th). Happy Birthday to it and this story.


	32. Epilogue: Five Hundred Years Later

a/n: *sniffle* I'm sad to see it go, but this is the end. And what a wonderful four years it has been! I really appreciate everyone who has followed this fic from the beginning, all the fans old and new, and anyone who has ever stopped to leave a comment.

It's been a long, hard road but I'm glad we stuck together. I hope you enjoy the epilogue and thanks so much!

**Shattered Children**

**Epilogue**

**~500 Years Later~**

Dust rising, heart thrumming in her chest, breathing a little more difficult now that she was so much older, but Yuffie ran anyways. Behind her, several pursued, their laughter echoing in the air. She sucked in a breath, tasting fresh and clean, and oddly of rainfall. Her eyes flickered to the sky. Yes, it was definitely going to rain later, but for now, the sky dawned blue and bright.

Tail flickering behind her, Yuffie raced forward, climbing the high bluff and following the trail as it wound across the dusky landscape. She could just see the edge ahead of her, a small stand of trees lingering strongly against the elements, swaying lightly in the winds. And Yuffie skidded to a stop, sending dust and rocks skittering, some of them tumbling right over the edge.

She couldn't help but grin, admiring the view that spread out before her. Midgar – or what was left of it to be more precise – covered in greenery. Old reactors little more than broken pieces of metal and debris, completely taken over by vegetation. Five hundred years later, it had almost been completely swallowed by nature. Yuffie had to admit she liked it better that way.

"Yuffie!"

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the little ones finally catching up to her, Nanaki trailing a few meters behind. Not out of lack of speed but concern, ensuring that they didn't lose any grandchildren along the way. With four cubs to to keep track of, they would need all four of their eyes and a good portion of their attention. Especially rambunctious little ones as theirs.

"Getting slow in your old age," Yuffie teased, turning away from the view to pad quietly to his side. She rubbed her head against his affectionately.

Nanaki rolled his eyes, playfully nipping at her and missing when she danced out of reach. "And five centuries later, you've yet to mature."

"It's what keeps me young."

"Why'd we come here?" one of their grandchildren, Malik, inquired inquisitively, his brothers and sisters crowding around him with the same question in their lupine eyes.

Nanaki trotted past her, gesturing towards Midgar below them with a flick of his tail. "So you could see this," he explained, sitting back on his haunches and tracing the view with his own eyes. "Once, long ago, there was a city there. It has since been reclaimed by the planet."

"And for the better," Yuffie murmured, more to herself than to Nanaki. She planted herself down at his side, and they watched as their grandchildren crowded to the edge, ooh'ing and aah'ing over the scene. Her tail twitched behind her, not as bright and hot as it had been in her youth, but still going strong.

Various shades of orange, red, and brown decorated the furs of their grandchildren. Fire-lit tails flaming brightly, reflecting the exuberance of youth. Malik and Yoshino were twins, brothers in blood. Reto was an only child, while Skyla's younger sister had been too young to accompany them on this trip. So many grandchildren, and yet, Yuffie would be happier with quite a few more.

"Wahh, it's pretty," Skyla said, tail wagging in interest.

"It's boring!" Reto complained, already twitching restlessly. He looked over his shoulder, brown eyes pleading. "Can we go somewhere else now?"

Nanaki sighed with the patience of an adult who had dealt with children for most of his natural life. "You may play if you wish," he granted, much to the excitement of the cubs.

They yipped and laughed as they danced around each other, thankfully away from the edge.

"But stay in sight," he added as the four young ones bounded back to the flatter, safer ground, tackling one another and mock fighting.

Yuffie rolled her eyes and rose to her feet, padding softly away from the edge herself. "You spoil them," she teased, idly stretching with a satisfactory groan and eying the stand of thick trees. She was most interested in the shade they offered, a relief from the heat of the high sun bearing down on them.

"No more than you, Yufs," Nanaki retorted, following along after her, looking quite distinguished with the streaks of grey that sifted through his air in sporadic intervals.

"I'm less obvious about it."

Nanaki chuckled, playfully swatting at her with his tail. "You're still no better than a cub yourself. Look at you, already wanting a nap."

Snapping her mouth shut over a cropping yawn, Yuffie tossed a look at her mate and plopped down on the ground under the blessed shade. The wind that stirred through her was much cooler and she sighed in relief. Ah, nothing could get much better than this. Her old bones were grateful for it and as she stretched to get comfortable, old scars pulled and tugged in familiar ways, bringing with them the memories.

Nanaki circled until he plopped down behind her, too close for the heat of the afternoon sun. But she liked having him near. Ah, a conundrum.

Without warning, Yuffie melded back into human form, something she did far more often than Nanaki. "This is more comfortable," she sighed to herself, leaning against his fur-covered bulk which made for a nice pillow. Her hand found his fur, stroking the softness of it.

He nosed at her side, a nuzzle if she ever saw one. "It's strange how you got more used to the shifting than I did."

"Well, maybe I'm just more adaptable to change," Yuffie answered, snuggling against him and easing her body into rest mode. She kept one awake and alert eye on their grandchildren, who happily amused themselves. The lazy heat was making her rather sleepy, the gentle peace settling into her bones and blood.

Nanaki snorted but settled down, letting the clinging heat seep into him as well. His tail swished lightly against the ground, much older than her but still distinguished.

She leaned against his softness and pondered, the image of Midgar covered in vegetation still strong in her mind. "You know," Yuffie began, stretching her legs out in front of her. "Being here is pretty nostalgic."

"Now you sound like an old woman."

She playfully elbowed him. "Shut up. I'm being serious here."

He breathed out, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin. "I know. I miss them, too. It's been many, many years for us."

"But it won't be long now. Before we join them, I mean," Yuffie commented, because even she could feel the age catching up on her.

She wasn't as fast, wasn't as agile. It took her longer to wake in the mornings, and sometimes, she lay in bed staring up at the ceiling for hours, sleep an impossibility. There was a restlessness to her spirit that had nothing to do with peace, and everything to do with increasing age.

Nanaki hummed in agreement. "They've all been waiting for quite some time."

"We are the last," Yuffie mused, a smile tugging at her lips as she thought of their friends and how many years – centuries and decades really – it had been since they passed.

After the final struggle against Jenova, a remarkable peace had swept through their planet. Other than the disagreements between man itself, the world had settled into an easygoing harmony. No more threats from beyond. No more men bent on world destruction. No more demi-gods dissatisfied with their lives. It was just a calm, and uneventful existence. At once, the heroes could finally breathe.

Shera went on to have two more children with Rude, the two of them living together until the end. And true to suspicion, all three of their kids turned out to be remarkable. Brilliant and strong, but raised much differently than Sephiroth had been. They were happy, satisfied with their lives. Her eldest daughter had followed in Shera's footsteps, and Dominic had pledged service to the WRO. And their youngest eventually became a famous chef, known for new and inventive dishes.

The old man and Vince spent the rest of their days aboard the Valenwind, with Cid eventually obtaining an apprentice or two to spread the knowledge. He retired in Rocket Town where he spent the last of his days designing one more rocket and lived long enough to see it reach space.

Reeve and Reno patched things up with Reeve's parents and soon had not just one daughter, but two to spoil into pretty princesses. Their youngest admired Reis to the point that she, too, became a doctor, but Revan – despite both her father's protests – pledged allegiance to the WRO and eventually inherited Reeve's position. It flourished after that, becoming the type of company Reeve had always dreamed of.

Barret continued to rebuild North Corel, turning it into a massive extension of Gold Saucer and by proxy, a tourist town. It might not have been what he intended for North Corel to become, but the people were happy and that was all that mattered to him.

Sephiroth and Tseng – once they worked out their relationship to both of their satisfaction – officially adopted Denzel as their son. They never worried about any other children, and both remained in the military until reaching an age such an occupation was no longer possible. And later, they celebrated Denzel's graduation and marriage, ever the proud papas.

Of course, Sephiroth was also uncle to many children himself. Yazoo and Reis' eventual marriage resulted in three beautiful offspring, all boys, giving poor Reis quite the handful. But they turned out to be good kids, real charmers at school. Yuffie never envied her for her brood. Loz and Illiana's only child – a beautiful young woman – turned out to be of genius level and helped usher in a new age of technology. Yuffie had never seen prouder parents.

Archer and Kadaj never really worried about children. They had enough nieces and nephews to spoil as it were. Yuffie had just been glad to see Archer smile for once, rather than the sorrowful cast that he'd always carried.

Zack and Aeris remained only friends for the longest time, many, many years after Elena's death. It was only later that they realized there was no better way to honor their loved ones than to be happy together. And when Midori was nearing her teen years, she was treated to a half-brother, whom all three blindly doted on.

Lucky for all three of them, the threat of Jenova never returned. She had been completely wiped from their planet. And all that remained was the shards of her left within Sephiroth and the brothers, though thanks to Tseng, they had all been carefully locked away.

The wars were over. Peace was actually a possibility, and their family – their mottled collection of thieves and killers and soldiers and ninja and demi-beings – were all thankful for it. They flourished in it, in a world that didn't swim in strife.

It seemed poetic to think of it now. Five-hundred years later, when all those that Yuffie knew and loved had passed. Their legacy remained, as did the memories. But more often than not, Yuffie missed them, even the later additions to her family. She missed all of them, and she knew Nanaki did too.

She loved her current life, her grandchildren, everything in it. But even so, she was ready for the next step. The Lifestream and her family waited for them. It was their last adventure.

"Do you ever regret it?" Nanaki asked, nuzzling against her side, his warmth a soothing and comforting presence.

Yuffie furrowed her brow, fingers slowing in their slow motion. "Regret what?" She turned to look at him, meeting golden eyes evenly.

"Giving up your human lifespan."

It was a fair question. Yuffie pondered why he hadn't asked before. Perhaps he had been too afraid of her answer, which was silly. Yuffie loved Nanaki; there was never any question in her mind about that. And honestly, she would never forgive herself if she died early and left him behind. What would he do without her, the great ninja Yuffie?

"Perhaps if I'd been lonely, I would," she answered softly, tilting her head back to watch the wind as it made the branches sway. "But I was here with you. That makes all the difference." Her fingers picked up their motion again. "So you better not leave first."

Nanaki chuckled, his tone incredibly relieved. "I wouldn't leave you behind," he murmured, and his tail fell back against the ground as he relaxed.

She smiled. "It's kinda nice. Lazy days like this."

"Strange to hear you say that, Ms. Adventure, herself."

"Hey! Did you happen to forget I fought in like three wars?" Yuffie grinned, closing her eyes and enjoying the gentle banner. "I think that's enough adventure to last a lifetime."

Nanaki hummed in agreement. "Peace is nice, in it's own way."

Out of nowhere, Skyla leapt onto Yuffie's belly, causing the ninja to let out a whoosh of air as she struggled to catch her squirming grandchild. "C'mon, Nona. Play with us!"

Yuffie laughed as Skyla's tail waggled through the air, the other cubs bounding up to join her. "Nona's too old to play," she said, even as Reto tackled her as well, larger than Skyla and much heavier.

"Play with us!" the two urged in chorus.

Behind her, Nanaki abruptly stood, losing Yuffie's backrest. She tumbled backwards, under the weight of her grandchild, and watched as her husband stretched languidly. Grey-tinted fur gleaming in the speckled half-light under the tree.

He growled playfully, snatching Skyla up by the back of her neck and pulling her away from Yuffie. "Popa has enough energy for the both of us," Nanaki assured them, dropping Skyla to the ground and bounding away.

Laughing, Skyla scrabbled to follow, prompting Reto and the others to do the same, their glee echoing into the blue afternoon.

Shaking her head, Yuffie rose to her feet and shifted her body back into Iyatokan form, something that had become more like instinct over the years. She was not old yet! She would show those impertinent cubs!

Feeling the happiness surge inside of her, Yuffie pounced after her family, surprising all five of them by tackling Nanaki mid-stride. They tumbled across the dusty ground, laughing like a bunch of little children, their grandchildren joining the pile of furry limbs and flaming tails.

It felt like peace, like a world finally moving on again. And Yuffie wouldn't trade it for anything.

Nothing at all.

**The End**

a/n: I promised myself I would not weep. So here I am, strong and hale! Absolutely not weeping.

It was a good run. I had a lot of fun with this story. And if any of you readers find yourself missing it, you can always check out my original fiction "War of the Animum" which borrows heavily from Shattered Dreams and can be found on my homesite. Also, I will be writing a Sephiroth/Tseng fic in the future as a thank you to one of my readers. Keep an eye out for that, as well as the completion of Chronicles of Valentine.

Much love to everyone who ever read, alerted, favorited, criticized, flamed (even), and most of all, reviewed any story in this series. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

If you have any questions about the story, feel free to ask them! I'll add on a Q&A if I get some that I few everyone would benefit from reading the answer.

Thanks everyone!


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